In the Shadow of Your Heart
by BellaFlan
Summary: Edward didn't mean to kidnap Bella and hold her hostage, but she holds a secret that could destroy his family. Lucifer was an angel too, and love isn't always wholly benevolent. Vamp AU, B/E, Romance/Horror
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Oh hi! Yes, a new fic. Since we're in the last chapter of Don't Fear the Reaper and I got bitten on the ass by a plot bunny, I decided to post the prologue. This is Vamp AU and NOT a comedy. Big love to betas mac214 and jkane180. Also katinki is pre-reading as she's a sexpert in all things dark and kinky. DoUTrustMe pre-read too. As always, no copyright infringement is intended, do not read if you're under 18 or easily squicked by a little gore.**

**In the Shadow of Your Heart is a horror/romance, and the vampires are only canon-ish. No singer and no telepathy. Also, no Alice or Jasper.**

_The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out_  
_You left me in the dark_  
_No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight_  
_In the shadow of your heart_  
_-Florence and the Machine_

**Prologue**

When I was seven, I burned my hand on the stove.

Sure, it fucking hurt, but what stuck with me some ten years later was my body's intrinsic response - my hand snapped away from the element seemingly of its own volition. How did I know to recoil before my brain could even perceive the heat?

The answer wasn't hard to find: if you touch something hot enough to burn, warmth receptors stop firing, and specialized pain receptors take over. In other words, my brain protected my body faster than I was able to understand what was happening . . . before the pain crippled me into impotency.

_Pain._

There was no point dwelling on that. Trying to remember pain is an exercise in futility.

The mind protects itself.

Why was I thinking about this?

Because at four o'clock on my eighteen birthday—September 13th, 2008—I watched my childhood friend, Jessica, have her head blown clear off her neck not four feet away from me. We had stopping in at the 7-Eleven in Port Angeles on a class trip to the Historical Museum, and the shooter was a scruffy man wearing nothing but camo-print cargos and a sawed-off shotgun .

Shit, I remembered - it was an indelible bloodstain on my psyche. I remembered walking into the store, my fingers clutched by my boyfriend Mike's clammy hand. I didn't want him to touch me, and I was feeling restless that day, desperate for something pivotal to coax away the feeling of inertia that plagued me of late.

Be careful what you wish for? Nah. I didn't believe in that - luck, fate, god, whatever.

I believed in my mind. I believed in my parasympathetic nervous system. I believed in biology, the receptors that pulled me away from the hot element.

But I didn't believe my eyes.

"What are you looking at?" Jessica demanded. She was facing me, and the gunman was behind her, cocking his head, fixated by something he saw on the back of her skull. I couldn't move or speak, even as I felt Mike's hand slip away from my own. I wanted to warn her, but maybe it was best if she didn't know it was coming.

"Nothing," I said quietly.

The shotgun blast exploded into chaos, but I was perched on the eye of a needle, moving carefully, slowly, deliberately. So carefully, I crept away from the shooter. While everyone else was busy screaming, I dropped to the ground and covered my head, vaguely aware of the spray of blood that covered me. The bits of matter that clung to my clothes . . . I didn't want to fathom what they were, but I couldn't help but wipe my hand against the floor.

I saw pieces of hair and bone, and swallowed my screams

I stayed very still, trying not to cry. I just breathed. Over and over again, I breathed and prayed for the first time in my life that my body would keep breathing. _Protect me. Pull me back from the burn, God. Brain. Neurons fire and save me . . ._

Killers like moving targets, my mind told me wisely. I wouldn't move.

Shells fell to the ground, tinkling like metal raindrops. I somehow heard the empty, falling shells above every other sound . . . and then I heard nothing.

For a blissful, terrifying, and interminable moment, there was darkness.

And then pain. White, red, and blinding.

Consciousness exploded through me, leaving me cold and nauseous; it was nuclear winter in my mind. I groaned, swallowing bitter saliva as my stomach forced acid into my esophagus, burning a terrible path into my throat.

"Mike," I croaked. "Don't let go of my hand."

I was going to die. Biology had failed me.

My fingers were still intertwined with Mike's, but his hand was colder than usual, unresponsive to my touch.

I was so cold too.

Another shotgun blast exploded through the tiny store, and my ears rang, my mind numb with shock. My blood rushed in my veins; I could hear the steady whooshing. I concentrated on the rhythmic pulse of my heart, the reassuring metronome that signified I was still alive.

"I don't see him, Mike," I whispered. "Maybe he's gone?"

His hand was so cold. Why wouldn't he squeeze my fingers?

"Don't let go of me," I whispered, turning my head.

Mike's eyes were open, unblinking; the hand I held was no longer attached to his body.

I screamed. I'd leave the world crying, begging, fighting for my life. The logic I'd clung to was lost, and I didn't care that pleading wouldn't help. My fear ruled me now.

Terrible fear.

"Don't cry. You're okay," a voice said; a man, no, an angel said, perched on top of a display case like a quadruped ready to pounce. He was beautiful, the light bouncing against him like he was a constellation of diamonds, a spectrum of colour refracting against his skin.

"What the fuck . . ." The gunman spoke for the first time, but his words tapered off into a gurgle. Faster than I could register, something shot through his abdomen, effectively eviscerating him; transmuting him into a pile of organs, the echo of his attacker's footfalls reached my ears in seemingly the same instant.

The angel licked a line of blood off his wrist, and suddenly, I was blinded by rainbows.

xxxx

There were bones beneath my head; there was no other explanation for what cradled me as I thrashed against the cold, hard vines that had me ensnared. I'd expected to feel the grimy, linoleum floor of the 7-Eleven beneath me, but gravity seemed to have evaded me.

"I apologize . . . I'm not used to handling something so fragile."

"W-what?" I tried to rub my head, but my arm wouldn't move.

He was speaking to me, but I couldn't hear anything above the rushing in my ears. I thought maybe I was dying, that I'd died with the rest of my classmates, and he really was some sort of angel. I mean, he looked like one. Archangels were supposed to be terrible creatures in the Old Testament. Satan was an angel. He was probably beautiful too.

I'd have to re-evaluate my belief system.

My throat was so dry, and my lips felt pasted together. I needed to speak. I couldn't summon words.

"I think you've soiled yourself," the angel/demon informed me.

He was right, I realized, flushing with shame. "I'm s-sorry."

"The smell is rather pungent, but it doesn't really bother me," he said clinically. "I imagine it's uncomfortable for you, though. I'll help you bathe, if you wish."

Feeling had not yet returned to my lower extremities, so it was difficult for me to comment about my level of comfort. "I don't know." I really didn't know anything; it was an apt reply. "Are we flying? Do you have wings?"

"No." He might have smirked . . . it was hard to tell. His facial expressions altered so quickly. Even his mouth seemed to move at a different rate than his words. "I'm running. I'm taking you to my home in the woods."

Why was he taking me to his home?

"I want my father," I whispered.

"I'm sorry . . . you can't go home. It's not possible."

**A/N - I'd love to know what you think.**


	2. Livestock

**A/N - I need to thank an army of people for this chapter which went through a re-write. My kick-ass betas Mac214 and Jkane180 for not being afraid to tell me when major changes are needed. My wonderful pre-readers who are probably more helpful than they even realize - Katinki and DoUTrustMe. Finally my guest beta readers on this chappie are MeraNaamJokerFF (read her fics!) and fellow Canadian Snowyhedwig. **

I was a dead weight in the monster's arms. Surely he couldn't keep carrying me through these tangled woods? My head lolled over the crook of his arm, and I watched his feet move faster than flight, never quite touching the earth. The ground beneath us seemed to cringe away from his touch.

Time stood still amidst the chaos of motion.

The scenery melted into a blur of green and brown mush, like abstract art comprised of messy brush strokes.

There were no mile markers in the wilderness. Death was surely my destined path. What else could he have planned for me? My instincts were backwards. Certainly my fight or flight instinct should have taken hold of me at this point? Why wasn't I freaking out more? I tried to take stock of my body, but everything was pins and needles - completely frozen and numb. Still, my stupid mouth wouldn't shut up, spilling forth every guileless plea in my head.

"Home," I begged fruitlessly.

"It's not possible." He sighed almost apologetically.

"Why not?" I didn't understand.

The only reply he offered was, "You've seen too much. You know what I'm capable of."

I shook my head. "No, I didn't. I don't know what I saw!"

_So kill me, then. _Why did he keep me with him if I'd seen too much? Those words didn't bode well for me. People who'd seen too much were inexorable liabilities - something to dispose of. My only frame of reference were Mafia films . . . but this creature seemed nothing like Corleone.

Would he tear me apart and eat my flesh? Could it be quick? Maybe it would be over before I realized it. Maybe I was already dead. Fear made my breath scream through my lungs in quick bursts, my heart buzzing out a ruthless beat like a hummingbird rattling against my ribcage.

"Will it hurt?" I whispered my worst fear - pain.

"I'm afraid I don't understand your question. Will _what _hurt?"

"Never mind." I closed my eyes, feeling myself float into oblivion.

Falling in and out of consciousness, I only noticed we'd stopped because the sound of crunching branches ceased, giving way to a new, rushing noise - water.

"I need to wash you."

I opened my eyes and saw a river.

"Why?"

"The blood," he explained. "I need to get as much off you as possible before I take you back to my home." He set me down on a cold riverbank; the rock from the sand-bed felt like glass under me.

"Why?"

"You know why . . . you saw what I did to that-" he paused as if searching for the right noun, "-that man." He spoke the word like a curse. "The blood can cause a frenzy for my kind."

"So . . . you _are_ a monster?"

"Not exactly. We try to quell some of our more natural impulses." He unbuttoned his plain, white shirt, shrugging it off his shoulders. His skin glistened delicately, and I looked away; dim light made its way through the dense cloud cover. I tried not to look too closely at his chest, tried very hard not to notice how strangely pretty he was. "What are you thinking? The fear in your eyes is jarring."

"I'm terrified; I can't pretend not to be," I whispered, burying my face into my shaking hands so I wouldn't offend him with my fear. "You're scaring me." Tears dropped out of my eyes, feeling hot in contrast with my cold skin.

"I apologize." He dipped his shirt into the water as it bubbled over the river rock. Slowly, mechanically, methodically, he dragged the wet cotton over my face and arms; my teeth gnashed together violently in response. I thought I'd been numb, but the icy water was unbearable, freezing my body to the point it felt like burning.

"Please!" My voice was a scream, and he stopped wiping me down. "Too cold . . . please stop."

"You can have a proper shower at my home. For now, let me do what I need to for your own safety."

He didn't care about my safety. "Please just kill me. Please don't make me freeze to death."

He dropped the makeshift cloth and attempted to warm my arms by creating friction with his hands. "I'll stop cleaning you. I was only concerned about the blood, you understand. It's so easy to forget how fragile you are to the elements."

"Blood?"

"It's not yours." His lips moved upward into an unnatural smile before snapping back into a line like an elastic band. "The boy's, mostly."

"Mike." My body started to shake harder, and I tried to wrap my arms around my chest but couldn't feel them anymore. Blood left my extremities to heat my core. My skin felt like ice; droplets of water from the river froze on my arms in crystals from exposure to the frigid air. Tears burned in my eyes, and my throat tightened. "His blood-" Hot bile rose in my chest, and I gagged as vomit burst into my esophagus.

"I'm sorry." The monster held my hair out of the way while I regurgitated the watery contents of my empty stomach.

Now I was covered in blood, shit, and vomit.

"My name's Edward." _Um, what?_ Why was he telling me his name?

He extended his hand as if he wanted me to shake it. I stared at the appendage, unsure of the right thing to do. That was the hand that had punched a hole through the gunman's chest. His cordial smile hid the teeth that had torn into his flesh. The tongue he used to speak politely had licked blood from his skin.

"B-bella," I stammered. _Please don't make me touch you. Please just leave me here to die. _He dropped his hand when it became apparent I had no intention of touching him.

"Bella," he repeated, inching his fingers toward my face while I cringed and recoiled away from him.

"No!" _Please don't touch me. _"Please . . . just please!"

He pushed my soiled hair away from my eyes with surprising gentleness. "I promise not to hurt you."

"I don't understand." I wanted to ask why he wouldn't let me go, then, but was too terrified of what his answer would be.

"You must listen to me. I know you don't understand what's happening at the moment, but I need you to trust me." He paused, waiting for me to reply. I was distracted by a terrible wailing sound, and it wasn't until I gasped in a frightened breath that I realized the sound was coming from me.

"Please stop crying, Bella."

"Okay," I warbled.

"Perhaps it's time for that shower."

xxx

We came upon a house in the middle of the wilderness, and I thought about Hansel and Gretel. Instead of candy, the house was made of wood and stone - a narrow, Victorian structure of three stories.

A blonde woman threw the door open and came at us like a hurricane. I found myself on my ass suddenly, pressed up against a shrub.

"Stay back, Rosalie. She has blood on her."

"Edward," the woman hissed. "Is it not enough for you to hunt in town? You brought back a human snack to tempt us with? She smells like feces. Disgusting!"

"I'm sorry," I muttered. This would be humiliating if the circumstances weren't so horrific.

"I'm taking her inside." Edward hunched his back like a cat defending its territory before dropping into a defensive crouch, making a terrible sound that was part-hiss, part-growl.

"You will not. The smell of it will be all over the place."

"I'm going to wash her."

"You're disgusting. Kill it. Do it quickly before Carlisle returns."

"I will not." Edward grabbed her wrist and wrenched her arm behind her back at an unnatural angle.

"Fine," she seethed. "I'll do it. She's seen too much."

"Why do you both keep saying that?" I keened from my place on the ground. "I swear I saw nothing. Please just let me go!" Wails wracked my chest, and I gasped for air to speak, to beg, to plead with. I kept blubbering, "I don't understand anything! No one would believe me anyway. Just—just leave me on the side of the highway somewhere. I'll pretend I have no clue how I got there."

"Make it stop talking. Kill it." Rosalie's red lips stretched into a sneer, revealing a mouthful of teeth, the pointed edges glistening with saliva. "Do it, or I will."

"You will not," he replied calmly. "You're going to go find Carlisle. I need him."

"No. He's miles away by now. What do you need him for, anyway?"

"Medicine."

"Medicine," she vociferated, lowering suddenly to her haunches; the dress she wore muddied along the hem. "No medicine can fix her, Edward. Look at her - sitting in her own waste. Look at the vacant expression in her eyes. Her soul's already gone; now all you need to do is dispose of the body."

"I'll ask you once again, Rosalie. Please leave - and before you reply, please keep in mind that I'll have trouble acting like a gentleman if you choose to disregard me."

A hissing growl rose first from Edward and then Rosalie, a seeming concert of sibilant challenge between the two, until Rosalie finally lowered her head in assent. "Fine, but don't let it near my things. Everything it touches will have to be burned."

"It would do you well to learn a little courtesy, _sister_."

Rosalie's eyes narrowed angrily, and she spat the word, "sister," back to him. She lunged away from us, moving like a cat on all fours before making a lithe jump onto her feet again. "Put her in the cellar."

"No." Edward bent down smoothly to pick me up, and I wrapped my arms around his neck without thinking.

"No? Where will it stay, Edward . . . and sleep?"

"She's my responsibility. She'll stay with me." His eyes darted down to meet mine, and I'm pretty sure I was looking back at him with maniacal terror. What did he mean by _with him?_

"You're taking a frightened rabbit into your bed? I knew you were depraved, but that's just wrong for so many reasons."

"Stop dehumanizing her. She's a woman."

"She's a snack!"

_I'm food to them._ Oh, Jesus, God, and fuck! I knew it. So if Edward planned on keeping me . . . what did that mean? Was he sadistic? He didn't seem like it, but why didn't he just kill me already and make it easier on everyone?

"She's not something to eat. Please stop glaring at her; she's already terrified of us."

"Please," I entreated the scary blonde woman.

"Don't speak to me. You're food," Rosalie snapped.

"No," I replied. Food wasn't kept alive and sadistically forced to wait for its death. "I'm livestock."

xxxx

Edward carried me up two flights of stairs still cradling me like a child. Everything on the walls - the light fixtures, pictures, and trinkets - was covered with an inch of dust. The carpet runner on the strip-wood flooring beneath us was faded, unraveling.

"Everything is rather dingy, I'm afraid, Bella. We weren't expecting company."

"Company," I repeated, feeling half-insane and mostly-dead. I kept my whimpers as soft as I could manage, and he opened a door at the top of the last staircase. Dingy was the wrong word. There were holes in the walls and mold stains around the floorboards. What kind of disgusting creatures could live in ruins like this and not even notice?

"Anything we don't use tends to be destroyed from neglect before we even realize it."

Was he reading my mind, or was the disgust on my face so plain? "Of course."

"I'll clean up now- now that you're here. I know it's not healthy for a human to live in these conditions."

The house and all its contents were relics. I suspected Edward and his family were relics too. "Why bother?"

"With what?" he asked, and I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt his fingers unbutton my shirt. "I need to take the soiled clothing off," he explained as my shoulders became tense. His fingers came dangerously close to grazing my breasts when he reached the buttons on my chest.

"Please," I begged hoarsely, my throat tightening with panic. "Don't rape me . . . I'm a virgin." As my blouse fell over my shoulders, I started to scream and thrash.

"Stop, please, Bella. Don't struggle with me. I don't want you to hurt yourself. There's no need for you to cry - I told you, I promised I wouldn't hurt you."

I couldn't pull the right amount of air into my lungs.

"What was your question? And please don't cry, Bella. I promise not to hurt you."

"Um . . ." I swallowed my tears and covered my naked breasts with my hands while Edward knelt to unbutton my jeans. "So, you're not going to rape me?"

He shook his head.

"Are you going to kill me . . . Rosalie said I was food."

"You're not food. You're a guest in my home." His cold fingers slipped carefully into my jeans at my hips. "I'm lowering your pants now."

"No!" I screamed, thrashing in his hands and effectively bruising the skin beneath his fingers from my struggling. "You said you wouldn't hurt me!" I looked him in the eyes - his strange orange-hued eyes.

"You misunderstand my intentions. I'm not using your body for my own pleasure. I'm helping you bathe."

"Fuck you!"

"Um, no, thank you." He looked puzzled.

"That wasn't an offer," I wailed. "I don't want you to touch me."

"Bella . . . I know I've given you no reason to trust me. Please understand me when I make two promises to you: the first is that I'll never hurt you." He cupped my chin in his hand, nudging my head back up so we could examine each other's eyes.

"Promise?" I whispered like a child.

"Of course."

"What's the second?"

"To never let you leave, so please stop begging."

I shivered and hiccuped. What choice did I have? My head kept bobbing, not because I agreed to his terms, but because I simply couldn't stop shaking. My entire body seemed to convulse with violent tremors. "Cold . . ."

Edward nodded. "It's possibly shock. We need to get you warm."

My clothes landed in a pile outside the door of what I assumed was his room. I didn't look around at much more than the floor as I allowed him to lead me into a bathroom. The white, tiled floor was surprisingly clean, unlike the rest of the house. He knelt over a claw-footed tub and fiddled with the taps.

"The water will take a minute to heat up," he explained, draping a towel around me. "Can you wash yourself?"

"Yes," I snapped but stood frozen, unable to move.

He nodded. "I'd better find you some clean clothes before Rosalie returns. Will you be alright on your own for a few minutes?"

I meant to say yes, to tell him to get the fuck out and leave me alone. I wanted to scream, to fight, and to run, but I heard strange sounds coming through the walls, and I nearly pissed myself again.

"What was that?"

"Just Carlisle," Edward explained as if I should be comforted by that answer.

"Son?" a deep voice called from outside the door.

"Don't leave," I whispered. "I'm too afraid."

"I won't," he said softly. "Carlisle? Did you bring the bag?"

"I did, son. Do you need any help in there?"

"No, thank you," Edward replied quickly. "Just leave it on the bed." He dipped a face cloth under the tap and placed it in my hand. "Wipe away as much as you can manage. I'll help you get the rest in the tub."

Without another word, he left the room, and I could hear him rummaging through a bag in the bedroom.

I kept the towel wrapped around my body, and tried to clean myself of as much vomit and feces as I could manage without falling over or passing out. The cloth became sullied too quickly, and I rinsed it in the sink until it wrung clean again.

Turning to face the tub, I bent down to wash the shit off my ankles, working my way up my legs to my knees. Something sharp suddenly jabbed me in the hip and I cried out in surprise, dropping the cloth.

"You'll feel better now," Edward said apologetically, clutching a hypodermic needle in his fist.

"What?" I gasped.

"Valium,' he explained. "It will calm you within moments."

No. I'd never feel calm again.

"Time for that bath, Bella." He pulled the towel away from my body, and lifted me into his arms. Without removing his pants, Edward stepped into the tub, lowering us both into the water while I clung to his neck. "You're okay," he whispered into my cheek and turned my body around so I was settled between his legs. I leaned back against him to steady myself.

"This doesn't mean . . . I'm not offering myself . . . don't rape me."

"Shhh. I promise never to hurt you, Bella. There's no need to beg for your virtue."

He soaked a clean cloth in the water and covered it with what smelled like lye. With gentle fingers, he dragged the warm fabric along my back, my arms, my chest, my legs, covering every part of me without really touching me in any kind of lecherous way.

My body stopped shaking, and a strange calm washed over me in waves, easing my mind like the bathwater warmed my cold flesh.

"I need to make another promise to you," he said thoughtfully after awhile.

"What's that?" I murmured drowsily. My eyes felt so heavy.

"I promise to always take care of you."

His hand on my nude hip, the way he touched me without taking from me, made me feel like maybe he really wasn't going to hurt me. Maybe he didn't want me to suffer after all.

"Edward," I said carefully. "Please, I only need one promise from you."

"What's that?" He, too, seemed lulled by this strange moment.

"Let me go home."

"Bella." His voice was suddenly cold, his arm dropping from my skin.

"Yes?"

"Don't ask me that again."

* * *

A/N - My update schedule is once a week for each of my fics.

Announcement: my twific pimps sisters and I are hosting a unique contest called "Fanfic my Fanfic." Visit the contest site at fanficmyfanfic dot blogspot dot com

Reviews received within 24-hrs of the next post date will get previews! Thank you so much for leaving love on the first chapter. I can't even articulate how happy your reviews made my pocket.

Phone buzzes are love.


	3. Fight or Flight

**Author's note: My betas mac214 and jkane180 are awesomefudge. Thanks to katinki and DoUTrustMe for all of your help in pre-reading. Big balls of love to obsmama for pwning this on Fictionators.**

I'd planned to be a doctor - to study medicine after high school. The hazard of my interest in biology was that I was constantly taking stock of my body; I was always over-thinking.

I believed staunchly in trusting my instincts, in taking cues from my body and brain.

My rational mind was my best friend. I felt so lost when it left me.

xxxx

Warm. Soft. Calm.

It occurred to me that I shouldn't have felt so comfortable, but I couldn't quite remember why. My eyes fluttered softly, the darkness reddening behind my lids from filtering light. I closed my mind off to whatever reality existed beyond this space I floated in.

Treading beneath the warm waves of consciousness, my dreams kept me below the surface with a gentle undertow, at first too subtle to be menacing. _Just rest for a little while longer, _my mind lulled me. My instincts were all but ignored.

In my dreams, I slept on a cloud, cuddled by an angel. His skin was made of diamond dust, and he promised to love me forever. I thought maybe I loved him too, especially when he knelt at my feet and painted them with a honey-coated brush. Warm drips of liquid sugar slid from my skin and onto his tongue.

A flash of jagged teeth beneath his full smile jarred me into darkness for a millisecond, but the sun moved quickly, chasing away all traces of shadow, until we were again bathed in light.

"Sleep, my Bella. He can't hurt you," a smooth voice assured me.

"You saved me," I replied. Someone had tried to hurt me, but my recollection was sketchy. He pulled me back from harm's way.

"Of course I did."

Wait, who did he save me from?

Something terrible was interred in my mind, trying to claw its way to the surface of my memory, but I pushed it back down quickly. A small, discontented moan escaped my lips.

"Don't," I barely managed to whisper.

I sunk deeper into the blankets of mist; soft, cloud-filled pillows cradled my head, and my arms cuddled something softer still. Another blanket?

"I promise to take care of you, Bella. No one will ever love you the way I do."

"Edward," I moaned. "Don't go . . . don't leave me."

"Never, my love."

_Never?_ A chill struck me like a lightning bolt at the word.

The honey on my feet felt strange: too wet and not viscous enough. The feeling was somewhat uncomfortable, but the warm liquid was quickly chased by Edward's cool tongue.

"Feels good," I mumbled. "Keep licking . . ."

With my eyes closed, I snuggled into the cloud-blanket I cradled, barely cognizant of the fact it seemed to move on its own. I opened my mouth to speak but lost myself in the sensation of Edward's mouth on my ankles. He peppered my skin with small licks and kisses, making a slow ascension to my knees.

"Don't open your eyes," he warned me.

"Why? I want to see you."

My lids parted, and at first all I could see was mist - thick, warm, and slightly floral in scent. Grinding my fists into my eyes to clear my vision, I noticed the cloud enveloping me was pinker than it had been moments before. Still cradled in my arms was that strange blanket.

"How will we ever get down from here?" I wondered aloud.

"It's not something you need to worry about."

"Why?" I giggled. "Do you have wings?"

"No," he replied, his voice becoming darker somehow. I looked down and saw red. "You are not permitted to leave."

Blood. Blood bathed my legs, and Edward was licking it off my skin.

I screamed and thrashed, dropping the blanket I was hugging.

A hand - no, a bloody stump of an appendage crawled its way out of a shroud and settled itself between my legs.

"Kill me!" I screamed, opening my eyes to another horrific reality altogether.

xxxx

Light streamed through a dusty window and into my eyes, jarring me awake. I felt like there was a heavy weight pushing against my chest, but there was nothing on me. _Please, let me wake up._ This wasn't my room. Everything around me was dank and musty and oppressive.

A ripple of movement in the bed beside me brought forth a landslide of memories from the night before: the gun, brains, blood, monsters.

I was still in hell. The nightmare didn't end when I awoke, and monster from my dream was currently sharing my bed.

"Hush now," Edward said slowly, infusing his tone with a softness that seemed unnatural to him. "It was just a dream. Don't cry." He watched me patiently, placing a cool hand on my forehead, only to retract it seconds later when I shrieked at him not to touch me. He muttered an apology, and contemplated me with a wary countenance as I wheezed and cried.

"You're okay," he promised, shifting his arm forward and then back a few times as if he was fighting the urge to reach for me. He seemed to flinch at my weeping. It was incongruous with his ilk - the gesture lacking fluidity and grace.

My sobs began to recede. Part of me wanted to cling to my terror, to disallow a complacent calm to lull me, to be at the ready. It was so fucking tiring though. Somewhere in the recesses of my overtaxed mind, the logical part of my brain understood I was suffering an acute stress response.

Since I was in neither a position to fight or flee the source of my predator, my options were bleak: I could freeze up, or I could play dead.

Or I could accept the reality of my situation; I could learn the rules, what was expected of me, and acquiesce. For a monster, Edward was very accommodating.

When a truce in the form of a quiet lull settled over the bedroom, I rolled onto my side, drawing my knees up to my chest.

"You must be hungry . . . you have to consume at least 1,200 calories a day."

I didn't reply, although my stomach rumbled rather voraciously at the mention of food. Then again, what was his interpretation of food?

_Oh, god. Don't think, don't think, don't think . . ._

Just one errant thought and my sympathetic nervous system kicked back into fifth gear: fast heart rate, increased respiration, piloerection . . .

_Calm. Still. Play dead . . ._

"Carlisle said you need to eat drink this." His voice was harried, very different from Dream-Edward's smooth, dulcet tones.

"Water," I pleaded, staring at my legs. There was absolutely no trace of blood on them, and the sheets smelled clean. My senses couldn't be trusted though. I rolled onto my back and glared at my neurotically cordial captor suspiciously.

"Soon. Drink this first."

He handed me a can of Ensure and a straw - _the Breakfast of Champions. _I sat up, feeling an ache in my quad. _What the fuck? _Running my hand over my thigh, I noticed a suspicious pinprick on my pale skin. My mind felt slightly detached from the rest of my body, and as more minutes passed, I began to feel stranger still. "Did you give me another needle?"

"You're troubled," Edward noted, ignoring my question.

"You think?" My voice had a note of hysteria to it.

With exaggerated slowness, he placed his hand on my shoulder. "I apologize; of course you're troubled. What I meant was your dreams were distressing for you last night. I'd hoped the Valium would have helped."

"How do you know about my dreams?" I gasped, cringing away from him. "Are you clairvoyant or something?" The sheets tangled around my legs, and I kicked until I was no longer ensnared, scuttling down to the foot of the bed.

"No." He chuckled, sitting up smoothly. "You talk in your sleep."

"Oh." I felt my face flush. "What did I say?"

"You asked me not to leave you," he said softly, clenching the muscles in his arm like he was holding himself back from touching me. Good. I couldn't let myself forget that no matter how nice he looked and sounded, he was a monster.

"It was just a dream. In the end you were a monster . . . just the same."

"I'm not as terrible as you think I am." His eyes sought mine, and I found myself unable to look away.

"You kill people," I protested but didn't draw away from his strange and mesmerizing gaze, not even when his fingers tentatively caressed my chin before angling my head up, forcing me to stare deeper into his eyes. The light caught his irises, changing the colours so they resembled an oil spill.

"What was that?" he murmured.

"You-you kill people."

"Only the bad ones."

I blinked several times and turned my head away from him so I could think straight. "I saw you eat a man's guts."

"Only the blood."

"What?" I was far too bold, challenging a flesh-eating beast in a battle of wits; I was woefully unarmed. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"I'd prefer if you didn't swear. Carlisle doesn't like it." He looked down and added, "I try to refrain from killing humans . . . unless they deserve to die."

"Who are you to decide?" Unless he really was an angel . . . like Gabriel or something. "Shit, Edward, what are you?"

"I'm an aberration." He smirked.

"You're not human?"

"No. Though, I used to be."

"I- I don't think I can handle this conversation." My stomach rolled, protesting the small amount of Ensure I was able to ingest. Inhaling slowly through my nose, I tried to concentrate on not vomiting.

"How do you feel?"

"Like shit." My mind was so numb. All I felt was nausea and apathy.

Edward's brow knitted with what looked like concern. "Are you in pain?"

Was I in pain? I was in fucking agony. Sure, my body wasn't broken, but nothing about me felt right. My brain burned with a sensation I didn't understand. At first, it manifested as a dull ache in my temples, but the more I contemplated it, the sharper it became.

"It hurts," I choked out, and I noticed my throat felt raw and tender. I swallowed, wishing desperately for water.

"What hurts? Please, you're frightening me."

I was frightening him?

"Water," I tried to whisper, but it came out in a gurgle.

"Right away, Bella. Please don't cry again."

I hadn't noticed I was crying.

My mouth was open as if I was in the middle of speaking – I couldn't recall opening it to say anything. I tried to draw in as much oxygen as I could, but the air wouldn't inflate my lungs; it was like they were torn somewhere - leaking.

Terrible wails filled the room. They were indeed coming from me, seeping through the mysterious fissure in my lungs until I was hemorrhaging cries into my abdominal cavity - drowning in my own terror.

Wait, no. That wasn't right.

Oh fuck . . . I was losing my mind.

"The gunman." My entire body started trembling with cold terror. In my head, I was at the business end of a shotgun, bathed in the blood of my friends. I closed my eyes, feeling my jaw tighten.

A rush of adrenaline in my veins - I was tense with indecision and immovable, feeling the cool floor of the 7-Eleven under my back.

"Bella? What's wrong, please . . . how can I help you?"

"He's going to kill me," I keened.

"No one will hurt you." A tentative, cool hand rubbed my lower back awkwardly. "I'll never let anyone hurt you." He wrapped his arms around me, and I turned to stone. "The gunman is dead."

He was dead. I'd seen him torn to pieces and consumed by Edward. What had I been thinking?

"Don't!" I caterwauled, wriggling out of his embrace.

My sanity evaded me, and although I knew I was at the mercy of my body's natural fight or flight response, a vexatious rage grew steadily in me. I clung to a memory from a biology text book my father had given me called _Defense Physiology_. It imparted that the acute stress response can manifest in aggressive, combative behavior.

It was apt: I was completely livid.

"Because you're afraid," he answered simply. "The gesture is supposed to offer comfort."

"I'm your prisoner, Edward," I reminded him through gritted teeth. "Why are you comforting me?"

"I prefer to consider you my guest."

"Guests aren't forced to stay against their will. Guests leave to go home at some point. You've made it clear I'll never leave."

"I'm so sorry, Bella."

"I hate you," I seethed.

"Of course you do," he agreed and then proceeded to laugh bitterly. "I'm a monster, as you say."

We stared at each other for several minutes in silence. I tried not to get lost in his mesmeric eyes, but even looking lower at his cheek, I became transfixed with how he seemed to radiate; how ethereal his skin was, setting off a halo of light against the dim, mid-morning sunlight that poured through the lone window in the room. I tried – really, _really_ tried - not to notice the artistry of his bone structure – the way his cheekbones sat high on his face, while his nose was impossibly straight and slightly upturned, his jaw strong and square.

These were very strange thoughts for me to process while I contemplated a life of imprisonment.

"What are you going to do with me?" I asked finally.

His eyes widened with surprise for a moment before he lowered his gaze, his long lashes casting a shadow under his eyes. "Keep you . . . here."

"In your room?"

"Well, no. That would be rather confining. I'd like for you to think of my home as yours."

"Won't your sister kill me?" Inexplicably, I found this notion funny all of a sudden, and I snorted, suppressing laughter. "Shit, what the fuck did you shoot me up with?"

"Cipro and Oxycodone. Rosalie is a concern, yes."

"Because she'll kill me." I giggled.

"I won't let her hurt you."

"There's a hole in my brain, dear Liza, dear Liza, a hole in my brain, dear Liza, a hole." A peal of maniacal laughter tore through me. "But who shall protect me from you, dear Henry, who?"

"Carlisle!" Edward yelled. "Breathe, Bella."

"No . . ."

Faster than sound, another monster hovered above me, his abrupt proximity stopping my heart; shallow gasps of air wheezed through my windpipe, not quite filling my lungs.

"Is she having an allergic reaction?"

"Bella?" the blond monster called Carlisle asked. "Can you breathe?"

I nodded because I was indeed breathing – quickly. Over and over again I gasped for air, feeling absolutely no relief in my lungs.

"I need to listen to your heart," he explained.

"No!" Edward said quickly. "She doesn't want to be touched."

Carlisle looked at Edward strangely. Really fucking strangely. One eye stayed focused on me, while the other veered slightly to the right to contemplate him. "Oh, really? Did she tell you this?"

"She's afraid."

"No doubt." Carlisle's eyes snapped back so they were both looking at me. "Bella, I'm a doctor. I used to practice on humans."

"Practice what?" I asked. Terrible images invaded my mind of him in an operating theater conducting gruesome experiments.

He seemed to chuckle at my question, but his laughter was unnatural; sound exploded through his larynx in staggered bursts like gunshots. A black, leather bag appeared magically on his lap, and I understood he must have grabbed it faster than I could see. "Medicine," he replied. "I just need to touch your wrist very lightly."

"It's okay, Bella. I promise, Carlisle won't hurt you." Edward seemed to take great pains to move very slowly around me, which was very different from how he behaved yesterday - and not just when he walked or shifted, but when he smiled or blinked.

"Alright," I conceded, offering the strange doctor my wrist.

"Steady pulse." He barely touched me for two heartbeats. "Respiration seems fine too. I believe it's a panic attack."

"Fuck!" I squeaked, feeling something sharp stab me in the arm. "Jesus, fuck, was that another needle?" A little warning would have been nice.

"More Valium," Carlisle confirmed.

"Ever heard of pills?" A hacking chortle wheezed out of my chest, my shoulders heaving with the exertion of my inexplicable, maniacal laughter.

"She'll be fine, son. Keep her calm."

"Thank you." Edward bowed his head slightly in reverence, and Carlisle did the oddest thing – he took his hand into his and kissed it.

"Whatever you need."

xxxx

I awoke in what felt like moments later, finding myself sprawled out on a wooden, deckchair with a warm fleece blanket wrapped around my body. Raising my arms in a stretch, I turned my head and saw Edward standing several feet away, staring at me with a timid smile.

"Are you feeling any better?" he asked, taking a few steps towards me. We appeared to be on a porch or deck, probably at the back of the house, and the sun seemed too low in the sky for the time I estimated it to be.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"An additional six hours. I suspect you needed the rest very much." He took another few steps closer, stopping at the chair adjacent to me. "May I sit with you?"

"No," I said groggily, causing him to laugh. "Why are you laughing?"

"You're amusing," he offered, raising his tone at the end of the word so that it sounded like a question.

"Laughter seems out of place coming from you. I mean, you didn't laugh yesterday."

"I feel . . . different than I did yesterday."

"How so?" I pressed.

"I'm not certain."

"I'm thrilled I could bear witness to your emotional epiphany."

"I apologize . . . you're angry, and my mirth is inappropriate."

He was apologizing for being inappropriate? "Am I a joke to you? Some sort of sick pet?"

"No-no, not at all. You're just very . . . brave. It's unexpected and quite charming."

"Edward," I said in a small voice. "I understand you won't let me go. I even understand you really don't want to hurt me . . . what I'm having trouble with is what exactly you expect of me?"

"What do you mean, Bella?"

"I mean . . . why are you looking at me like that, like you have some sort of expectation of me? I have no idea what you want."

"I have no expectations of you." He frowned.

"Let me go, Edward."

"No." All traces of merriment were gone from his face suddenly; my request was a dark cloud casting shadow over his sunny demeanor.

"Then don't smile at me. Ever."

"I apologize-"

"Don't fucking apologize to me!" I screamed. "End this. Now."

"You cannot leave." He leapt onto the chair beside me, seeming to perch rather than sit.

"Then end it."

"What would you have me do?"

"What you're not willing to do . . ."

"Oh, really?" he growled, stepping off the chair so quickly he appeared to move vertically. Faster than I could comprehend, he landed on the footrest of my chair, punching his fist through the floorboards. The wood planks splintered, the deck collapsing just under my chair. Before I could draw in breath enough to scream, he had me in his arms, rolling me away from the chasm in the deck. "I could kill you so quickly you—you have no idea what I'm capable of."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." The words flew out of my mouth before I knew what I was saying. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." My entire body convulsed with terrible fear and excruciating regret.

"Bella," he breathed.

"I'm sorry," I blubbered on several more times, burying my head into his shoulder as he carried me back into the house. God, I wanted my father. My mind went to a primal place as I conceded defeat.

"Shhhh," he whispered into my hair. "Please, stop that. You have nothing to apologize for."

He was wrong. I had everything to apologize for. I was giving up. _I'm so sorry, Daddy. I guess I'm not a fighter after all. _Behind my lids, I say my father's face. I wished I could kiss him goodbye. I wished he knew how much I loved him.

Why didn't I tell him I loved him?

"Please." Something akin to a sob rumbled out of Edward's chest. "Please, stop."

But I couldn't stop. The words kept spilling forth. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I love you. I'm sorry."

"Bella?"

"I'm so sorry, Daddy."

"No, Bella. Open your eyes. You're fine."

"Okay," I agreed. Edward's face was inches from mine, his orange eyes now a red-tinged obsidian. "I'm ready."

"Ready for what?"

"I'm done with playing dead," I told him while I still had enough wits about me to speak. "Kill me."

**A/N - Don't forget to check out fanfic my fanfic! Please PM or email me if you plan on participating so we can finalize or judging panels. You can find me on twitter too under the same pen, and my gmail is isabella (.) flanagan  
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	4. Spiral

**A/N: I wouldn't be able to write this without the help of my betas mac and jkane180, and pre-readers katinki and DoUTrustMe. You can find these folks under my favourite authors in my profile because they're awesome. This isn't a song fic, but I do listen to Florence on repeat when I write it. For some reason it helps.**

I wasn't giving in; I was giving up. It was a subtle difference.

A growl built in Edward's chest like a howling wind, and I thought of funnel clouds as he tossed me over his shoulder. It was the trajectory, I think - the way I became airborne, spinning away from his face in the same instant he catapulted us up the staircase. We moved as one in a gyration of wind and fury; my body remained limp, placid, and yielding.

No. I was wrong. Funnel clouds never touched the ground. This was a tornado. Air rushed in my ears, vibrating through my auditory canals. I felt like a hapless leaf at the mercy of a force beyond my comprehension.

My limbs hung loosely, like my joints would unhinge with only the slightest tug. It didn't matter. Beyond exhaustion, I was mired in defeat and ready to meet my end. Edward stopped moving, literally halted to a motionless stance, which was strange in contrast with the considerable ruckus he'd caused only moments before.

In this eerily silent moment, I could breathe again.

But this was only the eye of the storm.

My eyes closed, my mind quieted, my senses shut down - another defense mechanism.

Biology could be kind, you see.

"Do it," I urged, practically taunting him. My father would be disgusted with me. I was raised to carry pepper spray in my purse - to offer a swift kick in the groin and ask questions later. Fuck, if he'd known about monsters, I would've been armed with silver bullets and wooden stakes, too.

But my dad didn't know to warn me about monsters.

"You are ridiculous," Edward spat. "You think you want this . . . death."

"I should've died in that convenience store." Everything would've been so much simpler if I had.

"You know nothing if you think that."

"Edward . . . you can't possibly keep me." He still hadn't set me down on my feet. It wasn't as if I could outrun him.

"Do you feel ill?" he evaded.

"Tired," I corrected. Honestly, I didn't give a fuck how it ended, so long as it ended.

That was a lie. My preference would be for him to do it quickly.

"Could you snap my neck first?" I pleaded softly with a shaky breath, closing my eyes and concentrating on the sound of my breathing. Maybe it could be easy. Maybe it would be like falling asleep.

I tried not to feel him, but his arms tightened around me. He seemed agitated as he shifted to cradle me like a baby, my head resting against the crook of his shoulder and bicep.

"I won't kill you." He was stoic.

"You will." Because it was in his nature to. "And I won't even put up a fight." I tried to sound unaffected.

"No," he said firmly, kicking open his bedroom door and taking careful steps to the bed.

"You will, Edward. My blood will tempt you, like you said." I could almost feel the cold river water on my skin from when he insisted upon washing off all traces of blood before bringing me into the house. He couldn't clean it all away. Dust and blood and sickness still coated my skin like a sheen of sweat. "How many monsters are in the house?"

"Four, including me." He inhaled another breath to speak, but his chest didn't rise and fall in the action. "Rosalie and Carlisle, whom you've met, and Esme. She's very anxious to meet you."

Right. I was certain she was.

Three monsters in the house circled somewhere below, made ravenous by the smell of the sanguineous rivers beneath my skin. I shuddered, imagining them predatory like sharks, whereby a single drop could incite a feeding frenzy.

"How much blood do I need to spill for you to lose control?" I'd never been so aware of my own frailty in my life. Skin offers no real protection when it tears so easily.

"Bella," Edward said slowly, sitting down on the edge of the mattress and drawing me down with him to sit in his lap. "In all of my hundred or so years, I've never met a human that didn't tempt me . . . until I met you." As if to illustrate his point, he lowered his mouth to my carotid artery and opened his lips. I squeezed my eyes shut, whimpering in terror, imagining his teeth gnashing through my tender skin - the terrible sting that would no doubt follow. I couldn't even fathom it.

Instead of fire, I felt ice. His tongue, not his teeth, pressed against my neck in quick pulses like a snake tasting the air.

"Stop," I wheezed, and he pulled his head away from me, holding my chin gently to force me to look at him.

"I . . . I apologize," he practically stuttered, staring at me with those strangely-coloured eyes.

"What?" _What the fuck are you doing?_ I wanted to ask but only just managed to whisper the first word.

"You are lovely," he said slowly, and his eyes seemed to take in my entire face without breaking eye contact. I tried to speak but lost the ability to think in the abyss of his gaze. I should've been terrified feeling his cold fingers caress the underside of my chin before sweeping out to touch my jaw. "So lovely," he repeated. "Unlike any creature I've ever encountered before."

He had me ensnared, not just as his captive; I couldn't summon the will to draw my gaze from his. Hours could have passed for all I knew. All we did was stare.

When he finally looked away, I'd regained my ability to speak. "Edward . . . may I ask you something?"

"Of course," he replied smoothly. "Anything."

Except for the one thing I really wanted, of course . . .

"Have you ever kept a human hostage before?"

"No."

"Why me, then?"

"Bella . . . from the moment I met you, I understood there were only two possibilities. The first was for me to kill you-"

I shivered with reflexive fear, and he placed his hand on the small of my back.

"Shh. That only passed through my mind for a moment. The instant I saw your eyes, I knew I could never harm you."

"Why not? You kill people."

"No, not typically. I try not to. Carlisle doesn't like it as it upsets his wife . . . my mother."

"But you couldn't let me go," I concluded.

"It wasn't possible. My family would never allow you to live after what you saw."

"But, Edward, they didn't know!"

In a very human display of frustration, he raked his hands through his gold and copper hair. "They didn't, true. I could have let you go then . . . I should have. I didn't know . . ." He moved away from me and jumped onto his bed, perching as if he needed to be at the ready to spring into action.

"What the fuck didn't you know?"

"I trust you," he said inexplicably as if it explained everything.

"I don't trust you," I spat, letting out a frustrated sigh; it didn't articulate the confusion and anguish I felt.

"Yes," he agreed. "Yes, that's fair."

The tension seemed to melt out of his limbs as he lowered his legs off the bed to sit in a more natural position. His fingers gripped my hand. "It's my vehement wish that your opinion of me changes over time." He brought my hand to his mouth and kissed it.

"W-what are you doing?" I stuttered, hovering somewhere outside of my body as I watched him drag his mouth over my fingers.

"I don't know." He dropped my hand, and a line furrowed over his smooth brow. "I- I think I need to speak with Carlisle.

"Are you leaving me alone in your room?"

"No. I'm sorry; I can't." He pressed his cold, preternaturally smooth mouth to my own astonished lips, not kissing but whispering - apologizing over and over again for ruining my life.

"What are you doing?" I asked, too stunned to be terrified, as he twined his fingers into my hair, cupping my head like I was the most precious thing in the universe.

"Performing an act of contrition."

xxxx

In the front room of the house, a parlor that belonged in the pages of _Good Housekeeping_ circa 1957, Edward introduced me to the fourth monster of this strange family. Nothing could've prepared me for her.

"Ohhhh. Oh, Edward. She's just a little girl! Just a precious, lovely child." The strange woman skipped excitedly as she gushed, her perfect ringlets bouncing in tandem.

"Bella, this is my mother, Esme Cullen," Edward announced rather formally.

"Hi." My voice was timid as I offered a small wave. "Uh, this is a really pretty room . . . I really like pink." _Please don't kill me!_ Her answering smile was the most terrifying grin I'd ever seen. She appraised me with a maddening enthusiasm that made me wonder if she was deciding how she'd prepare my organs for dinner tonight.

"Precious girl!" she continued to coo like a raucous dove who'd lost her pitch. "Oh, I have the prettiest dresses for you to wear. My other daughter doesn't like them - the lace is antiquated, she says - but you'll wear them, won't you?"

"Mother," Edward interjected. "Bella's a little tired. Please just make sure Rosalie stays out of the house for the time being and leave her be? I need to discuss something with Father."

Esme smiled indulgently. "Oh, poo. You men and your business." She ushered me over to an ancient-looking couch laminated in plastic, giving the cushions a few solid whacks with her fist so the years of accumulated dust dispersed; I sneezed and hacked, my chest and nose burning from the sudden onslaught of dirt and spores.

"Have a seat, dear; let's have a nice chat and get to know each other while the boys scamper off for a while."

I shot Edward a wary glance; his lips upturned in the corners in what I presumed was supposed to have been a smile of reassurance. "I'll be back quickly," he promised and then addressed the strange woman he called _Mother_. "Is Carlisle in the laboratory?"

_In the what? _

"Father," she corrected quickly, her lips retracting as a low hiss passed through them for an almost indiscernible instant before her mouth settled back into that jarring smile. "Yes, darling. He's downstairs working on his research."

My jaw locked with tension at the mention of _research_, my mind going to dark and terrible places. A lab in the house? What kind of experiments were they conducting that would warrant such an extravagance when they couldn't even invest in cleaning supplies.

"I'll be down in the cellar, Bella. I'm leaving the door open; come downstairs should you require me." Panic overtook me as he turned his back to me, and his tiny demon of a mother smiled widely, her red lipstick - oh fuck, I hoped that was just lipstick - a slash of crimson against the blinding white of her teeth.

Edward only took a few short steps out of the room before kneeling next to the staircase. He balanced his weight agilely on the balls of his feet rather than his knees and unlatched a door camouflaged in the floorboards.

"Wait!" I pleaded, and Edward turned to stone, neither moving nor blinking as he stared at me. "Don't . . . leave me."

"Oh, honey. He won't be far, and you're as safe as houses with me," Esme promised, and I felt something tug at my head. I turned, quickly peering over my shoulder, and watched in horror as she ran a bronze-coloured brush through my hair. "Like silk, you are, baby doll."

"Mother, Bella doesn't like to be touched," Edward admonished, and she retracted the brush. His eyes sought out mine as if asking for permission before lowering himself into the cellar. I nodded, and he disappeared.

"That's just silly. Why don't you like to be touched?" Esme demanded.

"I'm frightened."

"Of whom are you frightened? Me? Certainly not my Edward."

"Well . . ."

"If he was going to kill you, he would've done it already," she said matter-of-factly. "And besides, he's completely smitten." She trilled out a disjointed tune and muttered, "As smitten as a kitten with only one mitten!"

"I doubt that." I was so tired. I wanted to close my eyes, which perturbed me. Did they drug me again?

"Do you like cookies? Oh, I've always wanted to bake cookies! Tell me what goes in them, and I'll make you a batch." She bounded off the couch and twirled around in the middle of the room, sending her ringlets jittering into a frenzy of motion.

"Um . . ." My mind felt foggy. "Flour, eggs, butter-"

"Flowers? What kind of flowers?"

"No, flour."

"I could plant tulips," she gushed. "Oh, how lovely would it be to make tulip cookies! Carlisle has a special television that can order bulbs from Holland and have them shipped directly to the post office. Can you just imagine?"

"Uh . . ."

"And you can have babies! Real babies, not just dolls."

Oh, holy fuck, was she thinking about breeding me? Had Edward tried to bring home human women before? I felt bile rise in my chest as an image of Carlisle shooting me up with fertility hormones flashed in my mind. I imagined carrying a monster baby that would no doubt gnaw it's way through my womb like in the movie "Alien."

"How lovely it would be to have a baby in the house. I used to have a baby, but now I have Edward and Rosalie; they can't make babies."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, and she giggled.

"Why are you sorry, sweetness? You didn't kill my baby. God did."

"I want Edward . . . I mean, I need to tell him something." I jumped off the couch, sending more dust into the air, coughing at a sudden impact in my chest.

"Where are you going?"

I looked down and saw Esme's hand clutching a balled-up section of my shirt, just above my left breast. She held me tightly in place.

"Downstairs?"

"The men are busy downstairs, little girl. You're staying with Mother."

"Please . . . no, please." I didn't want to be part of her sick maternal fantasy.

"Sleep," she hissed.

xxxx

Ringlets like snakes.

I gained consciousness in Edward's bed with his pillow screwed up between my legs. I'd dreamed about spirals digging into my body like razor-sharp corkscrews. My ears still echoed with my screams; I didn't know if they were real or imagined.

"Rosalie came to me last night . . . after Bella fell asleep. At first, I thought she'd come to destroy her, but she only wanted me." Edward's voice carried over to me from down the hall; the door to the room stood ajar, allowing a slice of light to cut through the darkness.

"And did you succumb?" I heard Carlisle ask softly.

"No… it was queer; I didn't want her at all." Edward sounded tired, and I wondered if he ever slept.

"Good, Son. You know I never approved of your having relations with Rosalie without being properly mated."

"But what does this mean? Carlisle . . . I can't possibly be—"

"You can," he insisted.

"She's just a human girl."

"I suspect this is why you've kept her alive – why you couldn't kill her upon discovering her."

"I couldn't. I looked at her eyes and wanted only to comfort her."

"This is a good thing, son. I'm very pleased."

"And I'm stunned."

"Yes," Carlisle encouraged. "What else, Son? Allow yourself to feel."

"I'm . . . elated and . . ." his voice nearly broke, heavy with emotion, "terrified for her."

"Terrified? How strange. Why?"

"Because this isn't what she wants."

"Why don't you ask her what she wants?" he suggested, his voice growing louder.

Through the slit in the door, I saw a wisp of blond hair and a black eye. "Isabella, it's not polite to eavesdrop."

**A/N - Big love for reading and reviewing! All reviews received within around 24 hours of the next post will receive a preview.**

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	5. bloodborne

**Author's Note: Thank you to my sexy betas jkane180 and mac214 (today's her birthday!), and my pervy pre-readers katinki and DoUTrustMe. Not sure how I lucked out on getting these ladies to help me, but I'm so fucking happy I did! Also, I'm not a doctor, nor to I play one on TV so pardon any inaccuracies in this chapter. Blame wiki. **

Carlisle.

His hair - wisps of corn silk in the dim light - created a jarring contrast against his bottomless, black eyes as he contemplated me. He had the countenance of a mad scientist, his expression clinical with an underlying malevolence.

"Isabella?"

"I- I'm sorry," I whispered fearfully, groping for the sheets that had coiled between my legs in the night. I hastily covered my body, concealing all the skin the lace nightgown I inexplicably wore revealed. "I didn't mean to listen in."

"Didn't you?" He cocked his head slightly. "You didn't let us know you were awake."

"I was groggy."

"You've slept the day away." The door screamed on its rusted hinges as he pushed it open with an exaggerated slowness. "Edward, please bring up the protein drink for Isabella. I'm concerned about her caloric intake." He set his black bag on Edward's dresser and pulled out a needle and several collection tubes. "I'll need to draw some blood."

"Edward," I called hoarsely, pulling my stiff body up into a seated position. The straps of my ridiculous nightgown fell off my shoulders when I moved, baring half my chest. I crossed my arms over my breasts.

"I'm here, Bella," he replied, but the light was so blinding in the hallway it was difficult for me to focus my eyes. His hair reflected the overhead light in reds and golds like a pulsating fire.

"Don't go . . . don't leave me alone with him . . . the blood."

"He won't hurt you. Carlisle is a physician."

Right. He wouldn't hurt me. Just like Esme wouldn't.

"Don't," I whispered meekly. Terror, like a sudden, swift kick in the chest, jolted my body into ambivalence; I wanted to scream and flail and hide silently all at once. I wished I was stronger - I'd always been depended upon as the strong one, the rational one. But this . . . there was no precedent for _this_.

"Give me your arm." It wasn't a request.

"Carlisle, please? She's so frightened." His body seemed to angle towards me even though he didn't move. "I can feel her fear. Please let me stay by her side."

Carlisle turned his head back quickly, emitting a low hiss. Edward responded by lowering his head and bowing his back shamefully, but he didn't obey.

"She's my mate . . . I can't leave her side when she's in need."

Carlisle's mouth widened into a grotesque smile; his eye teeth seemed to rotate back and forth like they were attached to a different bone than his bicuspids. "I don't approve of your subversive attitude," he said calmly, humanly, even though his face was positively serpentine.

Urine, hot and pungent, pooled on the bed beneath me, a drop trailing down my inner thigh.

"I apologize. These feelings are new for me."

"I know." He opened his arms, and Edward walked toward him slowly, his head bowed in submission. "I'll teach you what you need to know."

Edward shook his head, casting a sad glance my way. "She deserves better."

What did he mean? Why did he refer to me as his mate? Was I betrothed to him somehow now? Oh, fuck - was this some sort of sick progeny experiment? Thoughts of Esme and her psychotic fixation on breeding rendered me nauseous with fear. If there was anything in my stomach, I would have vomited all over the bed.

"She's lucky to have you."

Luck wasn't on my side. I cautioned a quick glance at Edward; he stared at me with a bizarre intensity that seemed to heat my cold skin in a way that confounded me.

"I'll prepare her drink," Carlisle relented. "Perhaps you should tend to the mess in your bed."

I wasn't sure if he was referring to me or the sheets, but I was grateful when he left the room in a swift strike of motion, too quickly for my mind to comprehend exactly how he moved. Sometimes the monsters seemed more catlike than human, but their viper teeth suggested they weren't even mammals.

The door shook on its hinges in Carlisle's wake, and I trembled from my place in the bed.

"May I hold you?" Edward asked softly.

"I'm not clean," I replied, unsure if the prospect of being in his arms terrified me for the right reasons.

"It doesn't bother me." He sat on the bed, carefully lifting me onto his lap before wrapping his arms around me. That strange warmth spread over my skin to every place where our bodies touched. "I'll draw you a bath."

He focused his gaze on mine, and I found myself unable to do anything but nod under his thrall. A shiver, a thrill even, coursed through me as he touched my bare arm lightly with his cool fingers. No, the trembling wasn't wholly from fear. His touch was the antithesis of terror. Was it because he could hypnotize me with his strange eyes? Did they all have Svengali-like powers?

"What are you?" I finally asked.

Edward sighed deeply. "I'll tell you," he relented, pulling me to my feet. Dizzy from his proximity, from being in a near-constant state of terror and confusion, I stumbled forward, riding a wave of vertigo back into his arms. "But you must drink the protein beverage Carlisle's bringing you. I'd also like you to bathe and change into something a little . . . less revealing."

"Excuse me?" My cheeks burned, and despite my discomfort and fear, I pulled away, drawing my arm back swiftly. His words enraged me to the point of stupidity. My arm snapped forward with an open palm - a residual skill I still retained after ten years of karate - but my hand found no purchase against his chest. He caught me by my wrist, gently guiding my hand to his mouth so he could kiss it.

"If I'm dressed like a whore, it's because your mother is a psycho bitch." I didn't even try to pull my hand away.

His eyes widened with surprise. "She's not-" he began and faltered. I felt angry tears escape my eyes, and I tried to free my hand to wipe them away, but he didn't release me. Instead, he placed our entwined hands firmly over his chest.

Oh my god.

_Oh my god!_

He had no heartbeat.

"I didn't mean to imply you're of loose virtue. I'm sorry I implied otherwise; it wasn't my intention." He smiled, pushing my chin with his finger, beckoning me to look into his eyes, but I squeezed them shut so I could concentrate on my thoughts.

"Are you dead?"

"No. Please look at me so I may apologize properly."

"No. I don't want to be hypnotized."

"Pardon me?"

"You're messing with me . . . controlling me with your eyes."

"Alright," he acquiesced. "Don't look at me if it makes you uncomfortable; however, I'm not certain what you mean about my hypnotizing you. I have no such power."

"You must . . . I have no other explanation for how I lose track of time . . . how I lose track of myself when I'm looking into your eyes."

"I'll explain that . . . please, my Bella, look at me?"

_My Bella?_

A flash of his copper irises dazed me momentarily, and I blinked several times, turning my head away from his face.

"Do you have a shower curtain?" I asked suddenly. My memories of his bathroom were fuzzy at best.

"Er, yes . . . why?"

"I'd like to bathe. Alone. Maybe you could just talk to me on the other side of the curtain so you don't see anything." It wasn't exactly a request. In fact, I felt like I had given him a direct order. Some sort of electrical impulse in my brain fired with understanding, and a thought - no, a revelation - burst through my mind like a fireworks explosion of neurons.

As much as I was his prisoner, something about me held him captive too.

He was under _my_ thrall. Was it possible he had been from the very first moment he saw me?

_"I suspect this is why you've kept her alive – why you couldn't kill her upon discovering her."_

_"I couldn't. I looked at her eyes and wanted only to comfort her."_

Did my eyes hold the same power over him?

"Of course. Shall I draw it for you?"

"No," I said quickly. "Carlisle might come back; I don't want to be alone with him."

"I'll change the sheets," he said, and blood rushed to my cheeks with shame. "Don't be embarrassed; it was a natural physiological reaction to fear."

Between Edward's response to my night attire and my body failing to behave itself again by properly holding onto its waste, I don't think I'd ever been more ashamed of my own physiology in my life.

I couldn't tell if the blood that boiled beneath my skin was from just humiliation or anger too. In truth, I was too frightened and confounded to be genuinely pissed off.

"I'll be in the bath waiting." I brushed past him, closing the bathroom door behind me, and took a deep breath, luxuriating in the moment of solitude. Dodging the mirror, I fiddled with the taps until warm enough water poured out, and I plugged in the stopper. It was old-fashioned cork, tethered to the drain with a string of metal beads.

Tethered. Trapped.

Soft voices drifted over the sound of running water; Carlisle must have been back with my liquid dinner. My knees shuddered and folded, and I very nearly tore the shower curtain off its metal rings.

_Please don't let him come in. Please don't let him come in . . . _Who was I even praying to?

I sat on the edge of the tub, the porcelain cool against my backside as I swung my feet into the warm water. Steam rose out of the spray and billowed like smoke, dispersing and disappearing into the air.

Was anyone looking for me?

Sinking down into the water, I tried not to think about my father. The amber colour of the silk nightie pooled around me, and I envisioned Edward's eyes. The heat - that same heat his touch incited - exploded through my body, settling between my thighs. I ran my fingers lightly over my legs, and all thoughts seemed to evaporate from my brain.

Huh. I forgot to take the nightgown off. The material stuck to my face as I dragged it over my head. It smelled like mothballs and ennui, if ennui could have a scent. Maybe I was losing my mind.

"Bella?" A soft rapping on the door. Only the wind, knocking on the door. "May I come in?"

_While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,_

_As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door._

"Nevermore," I said sarcastically.

"May I come in?"

I pulled the shower curtain closed. "Yeah."

Edward's shadow darkened the curtain beside me. "Are you comfortable?"

"As much as could be expected."

He passed me a bottle of shampoo through the curtain and another container of strawberry-scented body wash. It smelled terrible - too saccharine. "Carlisle picked up some supplies for you upon his visit to the hospital today," he explained.

"Thanks." I went into auto-pilot mode, lathering up my hair and body while Edward spoke.

"I know I have a lot to answer for. Please, Bella . . . I want you to understand it was never my intention to make you suffer. When I took you with me . . . it was the most selfish thing I'd ever done in my exorbitantly long life."

"Why?" I asked bitterly. "Why didn't you just let me go?"

"I've rationalized this over and over again in my head these last two days, but I've been lying to myself . . . and to you. It was wholly for my own benefit, not to protect you or my family." His voice trembled almost nervously, and he added in a whisper, "Very simply, I wanted to keep you."

A sob escaped my throat. "That's sick."

"I'm so sorry. If I could take it back, I would."

"You can," I choked. "Take me home, Edward."

"Rosalie will find you. Bella - she'll kill you."

_Not if you kill her first! _I wanted to scream, but instead, I asked the question that was burning in my head."Edward . . . what are you?"

"You call us monsters. We've been called many things throughout history, but monster is quite apt."

"Stop it!" I screamed, pounding my fist into the water, creating a standing wave. "Stop being so cryptic."

He exhaled a shaky breath. "You're right. I apologize. I'm always apologizing to you, it seems." The shower curtain rustled as he shifted his weight.

_And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain_

_Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;_

For a moment, I thought he was going to draw the curtain, but he only passed a wash cloth to me. "What do you know of porphyria?"

"Not much," I said softly, trembling suddenly, even in the heat of the water. "It's some sort blood deficiency?"

"Yes. In essence, it's a disorder in which the body doesn't produce heme properly due to a specialized enzyme deficiency. In the late nineteenth century, Carlisle pioneered the treatment of this newly identified disease. From what I understood, it was quite gruesome in the dark ages of medicine. People went mad from it - attacking one another like rabid dogs after blood."

"I don't understand; are you trying to tell me you have porphyria?"

"No," he said darkly. "The disease itself is quite uncommon. People were often misdiagnosed, taken to the sole sanitarium in England that was equipped to treat the disease. On one particular night, a patient was brought to Carlisle with queer symptoms. His body was covered in welts that looked like shingles, except he had no fever. His body was cold, save for a spot on his wrist that was bitten. Apparently, the pain he was in was so horrendous, his bones broke under the force of his convulsions."

"What was wrong with him?" I gasped.

"He'd been bitten . . . by a vampire." He paused, but I found myself unable to speak. "A newborn, to be precise, in the midst of suffering the change."

"Go on," I urged, trying to suppress a manic peal of laughter.

"This is comical to you, Bella?"

"No," I squeaked, taking a deep breath. "I'm laughing, but I don't find it funny. I think I've lost my mind."

"Why?"

"Because I believe you. I believe every word you said."

Edward drew back the curtain, keeping his eyes closed as and bent down to kiss my forehead. I drew the cloth over my breasts to cover them, but I didn't think he was looking; not even when he cupped my cheek in his hand, letting out a wistful sounding sigh.

"Bella, I need you to know that we're vampires. Carlisle's sire was the crazed newborn he had the misfortune of meeting during his residency in England."

"And Carlisle is your sire?"

"Yes," he stated, nodding once. "For lack of a better word, he is our father, and Esme, his mate, is his wife. Vampires mate for life, Bella - and we live forever."

Something about me - some part of me I didn't understand - had tethered him to me. I was his albatross.

"So I'm your . . . " I couldn't say it.

"Mate. You're mine, as I'm yours. Do you feel the connection the same way I do?" he asked urgently, his smooth voice becoming gravel.

I shook my head vehemently; I was lying. I did feel it.

"What do you want?" I whimpered as he lowered onto his knees.

"I'd like to ask your permission to court you."

**A/N - I'm leaving for Philadelphia in the morning to see some fandom friends (including mac and katinki) so I didn't have a chance to finish sending out previews. I'm really, really sorry! I decided to post tonight rather than finish sending them. I suck. I'm sorry. I promise to be better next time.**

**All reviews are appreciated and will (usually) receive previews. Feel free to yell at me on twitter for not sending out a preview if I missed you. **


	6. Courtship

**A/N - mac214, jkane180, katinki and DoUTrustMe make this better. **

"Don't look," I whispered, catching sight of my distorted reflection in the bathwater; my face looked like Munch's _The Scream_. "I want to get out."

Edward closed his eyes, a furrow appearing in his perfect brow like footprints in freshly fallen snow. His skin glistened with a frosty sheen as he turned away from me, casting half his face in shadow. The bath had cooled considerably now, my pale skin taking on a pale violet hue.

"As you wish," he acquiesced, his words barely discernible over the sound of blood rushing in my ears. "Bella?"

I tried to speak but barely managed to make a strangled sound in the back of my throat.

"What's wrong?"

I shook my head, partly to let him know I didn't want to speak, but also to cast off the drunken stupor that seemed to take over my brain when he was near.

"Nothing," I murmured.

"Did I upset you?" Like a guitar string strung too tight, his melodic voice sounded too sharp, as if it would snap under the pressure of my reply. "Bella? Please . . . say something."

"Yes," I replied over the lump in my throat. His lids stretched tightly over his eyes. If he opened them - if he looked at me - I wouldn't be able speak or think. "Yes, you upset me."

"Are you afraid?"

"Terrified," I said softly.

"I won't hurt you, Bella. I assure you I'm in control of my baser impulses around you. I'm a vampire, yes, but I-"

"No. That's not it. I mean, at first it was, but now . . ." I pulled the shower curtain closed and asked, "What do you mean by court me?" The term sounded antiquated, but I was pretty sure it had something to do with trying to seduce me. A tremor shot through my body at the very thought of it. "What exactly does it mean?"

"I wish to pursue your affections," he replied simply.

_He _does_ want to seduce me!_

Why was he having such a visceral effect on me? He mentioned it before - the bond between us - but everything felt so much more intense in the last few minutes. I drew back the curtains slightly to peek at his face.

His eyes caught mine, and a little squeak of surprise flew out of my throat like a hicup. His upper lip curled into a smirk, and he closed his eyes.

Capriciously, I gawked at him, memorizing the lines of his face; every deep-seated instinct in me screamed at me to touch him.

My breath hitched as I gathered my courage to ask him to clarify his proposal. "Do you mean . . . oh, fuck." The tremors intensified. Tiny, electrical impulses shot through my nervous system, fluttering and sizzling all over my body. I felt this perverse, nervous energy ignite my skin, hardening my nipples before finally settling between my legs.

His eyes were still closed. I took the opportunity to look more closely at him: the juncture of his elbow where his shirt was rolled up, revealing the pale skin of his strong forearms. My eyes lingered at his chest, quickly passing over the modest crotch of his pants to the lines of his slender legs. For an exhilarating instant, I forgot he was a vampire; all I could see was a beautiful, angel of a man kneeling patiently by the side of the bathtub, closing his eyes to protect my modesty like a gentleman from another century.

Which, of course, he was.

As the knowledge of his desire for me slowly seeped into my stunned mind. A second shockwave of lust settled in my groin, effectively silencing me; I struggled to form words over the buzzing in my brain. "Fuck, I mean, are you trying to . . ."

His eyebrows shot up in confusion. I silently pleaded with him to catch on so I wouldn't have to speak the words aloud.

"Are you trying to have s-sex with me?" I finally stuttered.

"No!" He sounded offended. "I thought I made myself clear."

"You didn't," I said weakly. "I don't know what you want from me."

"Bella," he said sternly, the perfect, musical trill in his voice becoming gravel with exhaustion. "I'd like your permission to earn your trust, love . . . and eventually, your hand."

My hand? I thought of Mike's dismembered body dumbly, wondering what Edward wanted my hand for.

"Yes," he said sweetly, lowering to one knee.

"Oh my god!" I gasped, sliding down the wet tub and slipping under the surface, my nose and throat burning as I swallowed water. I gripped the edge of the tub to pull myself up, but the soap on my hands made me slip again, clipping my head on the side in the process. A dull ache radiated just above my eyes, and before I could even gasp in a shocked breath, I found myself out of the bath and in Edward's arms, soaking his shirt. He shook as he held me.

"You're so fragile . . . it terrifies me. Please - be more careful." His hands moved gingerly over the spot where I banged my head. A wave of dizziness overtook me, threatening to pull me under. I bit the flesh inside my cheek and concentrated on the pain to ground myself.

"Did you just propose marriage?" I asked incredulously, unable to control the hysteria in my voice.

"Not exactly. That would be like putting the cart before the horse." His chest rumbled against my cheek with nervous-sounding laughter. He smelled of mint and pine . . . I hadn't really noticed before. God, he smelled so good. I ceased the assault on my cheek and, instead, breathed in his heady scent. "A proper courtship is a process," he explained, taking a hand off me to grab a large towel from the vanity. The terry cloth, warm in contrast with his cool hands as he wrapped it around me, smelled just like him.

"When you say courtship . . . do you mean . . . do you find me . . ." _appealing?_

"Yes," he said quickly, his eyes sweeping over my face and neck but never dipping below my shoulders. "Can you walk, my love?"

"Your _love?_" I felt his arms tighten around me. My logical mind screamed at me to push him away, but reason was muffled by desire. My knees buckled, my hands winding around his neck while I castigated myself mentally for touching him this way. Tears burned my eyes and bile rose in my throat, but still, I couldn't let go.

The anger and disgust I felt couldn't hold a candle to the unspeakable lust.

He smiled awkwardly, the right side of his mouth seeming to lift higher than the left. "It seems like an appropriate term of endearment. However, I can try something else if it's offensive. This is . . . new for me. My memory of human courtship is foggy." A gasp pushed out of my lungs as he lifted me off my feet and carried me back into the bedroom.

"It's not offensive," I managed. "It's inappropriate."

"How do you mean?" he asked politely, setting me down on his bed.

"I'm your prisoner," I reminded him, unable to conceal the bitterness in my tone. "How can this be a courtship when you won't let me leave? Love will never exist between us when I have no options. Anything I'm feeling is probably a result of Stockholm Syndrome." I wasn't blind. I couldn't ignore the attraction I felt for him but needed to put a name to it to keep my wits about me.

"Stockholm Syndrome," he repeated. The notion darkened his eyes, which only moments ago, had radiated with a golden splendour. While I wore my emotions on my proverbial sleeve, he seemed to emote through the colour of his irises.

"Yeah," I whispered, shivering.

"You need to drink the protein shake Carlisle prepared," he stated politely, deflecting with a clumsy show of cordiality.

"You're skirting the issue."

"Drink this and let me think, please?" He passed me a glass filled with a viscous, pink liquid. I should have found the drink repugnant upon sight, but I was ravenous.

I took a tentative sip, tasting fruit and honey. It was probably drugged. It didn't matter, though. Hunger and thirst dictated my priorities, and I proceeded to drink deeply. The cool liquid soothed my churning stomach.

"You're right," he said. "I can't expect you to accept my proposal of courtship in earnest when your choices have been stripped from you."

"Does this mean . . . will you . . ." I tried to ask but couldn't manage to coax the words past my lips. He had made his position clear about my asking to go home. The heartache of being denied again was too much. Tears, hot and unbidden, dropped down my cheeks.

"Please, no," he begged, pulling me back into his embrace. "Don't cry . . . I'll figure something out."

"What? I mean . . . what?" A flame of hope flickered, igniting my body into action. I shook off the drowsy stupor that threatened to anaesthetise my brain, clouding my thoughts like a heavy fog. I needed to be alert, to say the right thing.

"There must be a way . . ." he trailed off, staring at me with an electrifying intensity; the moonlight streamed through the window, casting a luminous sheen on his skin. I stared, fixated.

"Edward," I said carefully, setting the empty cup down on the night stand. "This isn't going to work." I ran my hand over the smooth skin of his jaw, ignoring the shiver of pleasure that passed through my body. I closed my eyes and said slowly, "I need to get out of this house to properly gain perspective." My fingers swept into his hair, and he lowered his face to my shoulder.

"Oh," he sighed. "You can't imagine how that feels."

I made a fist in his hair and pulled his head off of me. "You cannot court me in this house," I said sternly.

"Yes." He nodded dazedly. "Yes, I realize how difficult that would be. You're right."

_Oh my god!_ He was going to let me go home!

"You'll let me leave?" My voice warbled with unconcealed hope.

"We can leave together!" he gushed with an innocent wonder I hadn't yet heard in his voice. "I won't be able to let you out of my sight, you understand, but I'll take you wherever you wish." He smiled that strange, crooked smile and added, "I'll be _your _prisoner, completely at your mercy."

"I want to see my father," I declared flatly, watching his grin fade and his eyes become a dark bronze. My stomach fell.

"Bella . . ." he pleaded, drawing my hand to his lips. He kissed my fingers softly, his mouth whispering a gentle breeze against my skin. I tried not to think of the serpentine fangs hidden behind his full cupid's bow. "If he knows you're alive . . . I won't be able to keep you safe. Rosalie will-"

"Stop it!" I pushed him with the heel of my palm, and he released me, his entire face taking on a pained expression as if it hurt him to do so. "I'm pretty sure you can handle her," I spat, disgusted and irrationally angry.

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean."

"I heard what you said to Carlisle," I hissed. "About Rosalie."

"I spoke many things to him about her," he said with a nervous and exaggerated slowness.

Unreasonable anger heated my face, bubbling over into words. "You've been sleeping with her." I enunciated each word deliberately, feeling my eyes narrow into angry slits as he slumped shamefully in front of me.

"Bella, I-"

"It's fine," I said quickly. "You're lovers. I get it. Can't you use that to influence her?"

"We're not lovers! It was a disgusting, depraved arrangement borne out of sheer loneliness."

I ignored him. "For all your talk of _courtly love_ and stuff, you've been essentially fucking your sister."

He cringed, letting out a low exhalation of air that sounded halfway between a hiss and a wail. "I didn't know. Please, Bella . . . if I had any clue that you existed, I never would have-"

"You don't know me!" I growled, my hands shooting angrily to my hips.

"I do, Bella, I-"

"I mean, I don't really understand why you're suddenly acting like I'm the love of your life." I paused, a furious sob catching in my throat. "And . . . and I certainly don't understand why I'm so drawn to you too!" I dropped to the bed, slumping against the headboard, defeated by my confession. "Why do I want you so much?" My knuckles turned white from gripping the bed frame.

"Because we're mates!" His answering smile was stunning. I gaped at his teeth, wondering if they were as frightening as Carlisle's.

"The question was rhetorical."

"You feel it too: the connection between us!" He was thrilled, obviously so, and he tried to catch my hand in his, but I turned my back to him.

"Do you have fangs?" I looked at my feet as I spoke.

Edward sighed heavily and said, "I do. I promise, you'll never see them."

"Why not?"

"They only emerge when I'm hunting or putting a subordinate in his or her place. You are neither my prey nor subordinate." He grinned.

"Wait, what do you mean by _subordinate_? Do _you_ have a subordinate?" I'd assumed Carlisle was in charge of everyone. Both Edward and Esme treated him with such disgusting reverence.

"I do." He nodded.

"How is it decided; who's the alpha or whatever vampires call it?

"Sire. Ranking goes by age, typically."

"Carlisle-"

"Carlisle made me first," he confirmed. "Esme second. She would've been subordinate to me, except she's Carlisle's mate."

"And Rosalie?"

"She's is supposed to respect me as a patriarch."

"Wait," I exclaimed. "Is this like a dogs with alphas and betas? I mean, doesn't she have to obey you?"

"Not exactly," he said sadly, seeming to catch on to my line of thinking. He reached for me, but I cringed away from him while he spoke. "If she believes she's protecting Carlisle or the family, she can ignore my commands."

"But you could take me to see my Dad, and she'd never know!"

"Yes. Technically, that's correct."

A strange epiphany washed over me - if Edward had a physical effect over me, perhaps I had a similar one on him. I'd never fancied myself as much of a seductress, but I didn't exactly have very many weapons to use against him.

"Edward," I said urgently. "Do you find me physically appealing?" My lower lip dropped forward into a pout and I widened my eyes.

"Yes, of course." He smiled. "You're the most beautiful woman in the world to me."

"But do you want me?" I bit down on my lip and let the towel drop low on my shoulders, revealing my breasts. "Do you like my body as much as . . . hers?"

"Bella-"

"She's much more beautiful than me. I'd understand if you found me lacking in comparison."

"There's no comparison."

I dropped the towel completely, and his eyes darted to my face. "Look at me," I urged.

He exhaled a shaky breath. "No. That's not necessary. Please . . . cover yourself."

"You can have me," I said, trying not to give in to panic. "I just want to see my father. I just want him to know I'm alive, and I'll go wherever you want, okay? I'll give you whatever you want." I grabbed his hand and brought it to my breast. It was for only a second - he looked down and brushed his finger over my nipple, a low moan escaping his lips.

"No," he gasped. "No, not like this."

"Yes," I urged, quickly grabbing his hand and positioning it back on my breast. "Just let me see him once, and you can have me." I closed my eyes, breathing in his strange scent, trying to calm myself.

"Please," he begged, taking in a strangled breath. The muscles in his jaw became spasmodic, flexing as if he was under a great pressure. He made no move to take his hand off my breast.

"Do you want me?" I whispered. His thumb grazed my nipple lightly again, causing it to tighten beneath his hand.

"I do," he moaned softly. "But not like this." He tore his eyes away from my breasts, burying his face into my neck and hair. "I won't take you like this."

"It's okay," I promised. "I give myself freely to you. I just want to see my father one last time."

**A/N - I wrote this chapter high on oxy - I has jaw surgery on Friday. Thank dog for excellent betas!**

**All reviews receive previews, my undying affection, and a contact high.**


	7. A Gift

**A/N - I can't stress enough that my betas and prereaders make this much better than it is. mac did all the grammar fixing, while katinki, DoUTrustMe and obsmama preread. No animals were harmed in the writing of this chapter.**

I didn't want to, but I melted into his touch as his fingers moved to caress the undersides of my breasts. I heard myself moan, felt my back arch in offering as he pushed me gently onto the bed. My skin heated and chilled all at once: a dichotomy of passion and abhorrence. Darkness descended upon me as he covered me with his body, keeping his weight carefully balanced on his arms. Everything felt disjointed; I found warmth under the shadow of his shirt, yet the bare skin of his forearm was stone cold in all of its brilliance.

He sat up and loosened the shirttails from his trousers, all the while searching my face for something he evidently didn't find. His lips turned down into a frown, and I wanted to tell him it was okay - that he could unbutton his shirt and lay with me, but I couldn't summon the words. As it was, he moved very slowly, pressing his chest softly against mine; my stomach lurched and exploded into butterflies at the feel of the cool, bare skin of his stomach against mine where his shirt had ridden up. I inhaled a sharp gasp, and Edward stopped moving altogether, not even blinking or breathing.

"You're afraid of me," he said, disappointment and resignation dripping from his gentle voice.

"It's okay . . . I want you to." I couldn't stop my teeth from gnashing, couldn't still the tremor in my voice. I felt torn into two along the fault line of fear and desire. I'd meant to remain calculated but clearly I was breaking.

"Shhh," Edward whispered, using his sleeve to wipe the tears from my eyes - tears I hadn't even realized had fallen. The collar of his shirt felt soft as I buried my face against it, breathing in the scent of his neck.

"Do it," I sobbed.

"No." His hands were cool on my face, gently stroking my cheekbone before pushing me away from him. "I won't take your innocence while you're afraid of me." He sat up and grabbed a blanket from the foot of the bed, quickly spreading it over me. "I may be a monster, as you say, but I'm not _that _kind of monster."

"I'd like this to happen on my terms," I managed to explain without snivelling, staring at his shoulder, the juncture of fabric where seamed together. Drawing my finger over the crudely sewn line, I found myself oddly comforted by the fact his clothes were so dull; he had no pores, no visible cracks in his facade, but I could commiserate with his simple shirt.

"Everything that happens between us will be on your terms, my love." He closed his eyes, and I watched them flutter beneath the lids, transfixed by the way the thinner skin there seemed to refract light differently than the meatier flesh of his cheeks.

No, his skin wasn't perfect at all - not like I first thought. The luminous quality made the skin tone uneven and ever-changing. In direct sunlight, he sparkled like a broken granite, but in the muted moonlight, he boasted a lighter sheen - like a pearl.

Still lovely, just not perfect.

Of course, my own skin sickeningly pale skin boasted a spattering of freckles and pores, coal to his diamonds.

He opened his eyes, the irises burning like a reddish-copper fire, gazing at me with a ridiculous reverence that indicated he thought I was anything but ordinary or flawed.

"Virginity is a gift meant to be given in love," he said in an almost chastising tone, like he was instructing me about proper etiquette.

The strange thrall - the spell I'd fallen under broke quickly.

I staggered away from him, scowling, my gut burning with anger with so many emotions I couldn't articulate. "How dare you . . ." I started, faltering. How dare he lecture me about purity when he committed gruesome, unnatural, unspeakable . . .

"I've offended you?" He sounded surprised.

"I don't appreciate double standards."

"Bella . . . we're not the same. You're an innocent, lovely girl. I've lived a very long time and-"

"You kill people; you have sex with your sister. I'll thank you not to harangue me about courtly love - there's nothing noble about you." It sickened me that the memory of him with blood on his lips was fading. The more time I spent with him, the less I associated the man in front of me with the monster that fed on human flesh. Blood.

But I couldn't shake the disgust I felt about him and Rosalie.

He nodded. "I pray you develop a better opinion of me when we're out of the house, away from my family . . . maybe after we spend some quiet time alone together, you'll give our union a chance in earnest."

"You're not worthy of me," I snapped, angry tears now collecting in my lashes and dripping down my cheeks.

"You don't want this . . . me." He sounded hurt.

"I . . ." I had absolutely no idea what to say. Part of me - a very small part of me I didn't understand - wanted him very much, positively ached for him in a primal, deeply erotic way that left me feeling enraged and humiliated. "I don't know," I finally said.

"How do you feel right now, Bella? What do you desire more than anything?"

That was an easy question to answer. "I want to see my father."

"I'll find a way," he said fervently. "What else?"

"You'll let me see my father?" I asked suspiciously, not allowing hope to surge through me.

"I'll think of some way," he muttered, a stream of light through the window catching his skin and illuminating his face like a beacon in the dark. "What else?"

"I'm hungry. Really hungry, and not for weird protein concoctions. I want meat."

He smiled eagerly. "Oh, I can help with that! I'll find you a decent meal."

"Thank you," I said softly. My stomach felt like it was digesting itself, and I was desperate to quell the incessant rumbling; it sounded too much like a growl, and I already felt paranoid, my ears trained on every innumerable sound that creaked out of the ancient house. Even a single step on the old floorboards elicited a cacophony of high-pitched wails, like the timber was screaming.

"I'm going to pack a bag very quickly," he whispered, his chest rising and falling as if he exherted a great physical effort. "I'll have to consult Carlisle, but I suspect we'll be able to leave by morning."

"Where are we going?" An ache shot through my head, just over my eyes. I rubbed my brows, moaning lightly in pain.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said quickly. He pressed his cool fingers against my forehead, and I leaned into the light pressure. "Why do you have to pack quickly if we're not leaving tonight?"

"Rosalie," he said simply, his brow creasing. "She'll be back soon, and I don't want to leave you alone.

"Then don't. Just take stuff we need from your room, and we'll get everything else on the road."

"You need clothes."

"Take them from Esme."

He shook his head, still rubbing my temples. "I cannot."

"Why? Is crazy vampire contagious?"

"You're too warm." He ignored my question.

"Sorry."

"Do you have a chill?"

"Um . . . I'm not sure." I'd been freezing cold since I'd arrived . . . two days ago? Three? How long had it been? "My throat hurts a bit."

"What colour is your mucus?"

I broke out into a fit of giggles at the question, nearly snorting and providing physical evidence. Edward appeared flummoxed at my reaction, but he smiled indulgently.

"That's a strange question." I wrapped my fingers around his wrist and pulled it away from my face. He sighed, sounding almost frustrated as he threaded his fingers through mine, bringing the back of my hand to his lips.

"If it's green rather than clear or slightly yellow-"

"Please don't!"

"Will you leave with me?" His voice darkened, his breath crisp against my clammy hand.

"Will you let me see my father?" I countered.

"Yes."

xxxxx

With an exaggerated slowness, he led me down the dark staircase, and I clasped his arm reflexively. "Don't you dare leave me alone with them," I hissed, wanting to meld my body to his back suddenly.

"I won't." He squeezed my hand, turning around to lower his face into my hair. "I'm so glad you trust me to keep you safe."

"Well . . . I kind of don't have any options, do I?" Still, I closed my eyes as my body betrayed me once again, my brain swimming blissfully in serotonin at the sensation of his breath on my neck.

"No one will ever hurt you."

"Can we just get this over with?" I asked hurriedly.

He nodded, drawing away from me and pulling my hand gently as we descended the stairs.

"Fuck," I squeaked, catching sight of the coiling snakes of hair bouncing down Esme's shoulders. Bobby pins adorned with pearls pulled her spiraling hair away from her face.

"Isabella," she chirruped. "We don't use that word in Carlisle's house. I'll wash your mouth with Lysol if I hear it again."

They owned Lysol?

"I'm sorry," I said softly, keeping my body behind Edward's. Esme cradled a stuffed bear in her arms and sang softly to it for a moment before sitting down and placing it on the floor. She pulled a cross-stitch or needlepoint and began working on it, except one of her eyes fixed on me.

Carlisle appeared from behind the stairs then, glancing wearily at the bear on the floor.

"Do you have a moment, Mother and Father?" Edward asked politely.

"Of course, son," Carlisle gestured to the couch and added, "sit down."

Edward ushered me to the sofa, and he stood stoically as if waiting for me to move.

Esme made a dry sound in the back of her throat. " A gentleman doesn't sit before a lady."

"Oh . . . I'm sorry." I tried to sit on the dusty couch so as little of the laminated cushion as possible touched me. My legs ached from holding the position. Edward sensed my discomfort and lifted me onto his lap, whispering "relax" into my ear.

"Father, Mother," Edward began formally, keeping his eyes averted from Carlisle's,  
"as Father suspected, Bella is my mate."

"Oh!" Esme exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "Goody gumdrops!"

"Yes, well, I'm very pleased, to say the least." Edward pulled at the stiff collar of his shirt as if it choked him, unfastening the first two buttons.

"Are you courting her, son?" Carlisle inquired brusquely.

"I've asked her permission and-"

"He is," I interrupted. I hadn't formally agreed yet, but thought it best not to incite Esme's ire.

"I love a spring Wedding." She sighed.

I sneezed reflexively in response, trying not to gag.

"Of course you do," Edward said indulgently. "But before we can speak of marriage, I need to court Bella properly."

"What do you need?" Carlisle asked perceptively.

"Space. Bella and I . . . we need to go away for a while."

Esme howled like a wounded animal, throwing her stuffed bear and needlepoint at the wall in rapid succession, effectively crucifying the little animal.

"Esme," Carlisle chastised. "Look at what you did to Jasper." He retrieved the bear off the wall and placed it in her lap.

"I don't like this," she warbled. "You belong here with me – with your mommy. No one will love you like I do." Her lips stretched into an expression that was half-smile and half-sneer. "Does she even know how to feed you?"

"I feed myself, Mother," Edward said evenly.

"That's not what I meant!"

"Esme," Carlisle said sternly. I half expected him to make that odd hissing noise he made earlier at Edward, but his stern face softened at Esme's exaggerated pout.

"He's my baby," she keened. "He needs me."

"He needs his mate, my love. This is a good thing." He moved towards her with a strange grace, cupping her chin to angle her face so that they maintained eye contact. Her entire body seemed to sigh at the contact, like she'd been in pain until he touched her. "He needs her just like I need you."

"They need to make babies," she whispered, looking sadly at the bear. "Jasper would so love a little niece or nephew to play with."

xxxxx

My eyes fluttered open as the bed shifted beneath me.

"It's just me," Edward said softly before I could panic. I felt an odd mix of relief, joy, and anger at the sound of his voice.

"Morning," I mumbled as my eyes adjusted to being awake. Rather than the normal fuzziness of sleep, I felt like I'd been anesthetized.

"Afternoon." His face couldn't contain his smile.

"Oh, wow." I stretched, rubbing my sore head. "I think maybe I have a cold or something. Why is it so dark?" The room was grey like an old film, the sunlight peeking through the window barely offering any light on the drab room.

"Perhaps this will help." Edward's hair glowed a light, golden red in the sunlight as he parted the curtains on the window. Dust motes danced and swirled in the air like a galaxy of filth, and I squinted against the blinding rays.

"Too bright," I complained, covering my face with a pillow.

"Open your eyes! I have a surprise for you."

"No."

A tinkling sound, akin to cutlery banging against crystal, escaped his lips. It took me a moment to recognize the sound as laughter; I didn't think I'd heard him actually laugh before. He pulled a duffel bag off the ground and unbuckled it.

"What's that smell?" Something putrid and sweet invaded my nose.

"Breakfast . . . well, lunch. I know you're hungry."

Despite the congestion in my nose, the smell intensified as he pulled out a some sort of parcel. A long, bloody ear poked out of the top, and a horrified gurgle caught in my throat.

Like a cat that had brought a dead mouse home to its owner, Edward presented me with a dead rabbit wrapped in a towel.

**A/N - Okay, so the above image was one of my inspirations for this story. I have no clue where it came from. **

**Fic Rec - Smooth Operator by Cullcati. Check my faves. He's a fanboy!**

**FFn has been complete fail so I apologize if you didn't get a reply to your review. I read and obsess over every one! Also FL95 and obsmama totally bullied me into making a Facebook profile. I'm BellaFlan Fanfiction if you want to be my friend.**

**Review me or Esme will come after you ;P**


	8. Fox and Hen

**A/N – Shadow is made possible by my lovely betas mac and jkane180. This chapter was pre-read by katinki. The dead bunny wishes you all a happy Easter and good Passover!**

A breeze ruffled the curtains, and light from the window poured into the room, illuminating the rabbit's dead eye. It glistened for a moment with life.

Light gave way to shadow as the current swept across the window, and the one, sad eye blackened.

_Rabbit season._

What did I expect? Well, certainly not roadkill. I'd become complacent with Edward, and when he'd told me he'd find me food, I'd imagined a reasonable interpretation of my request for meat - a cheeseburger perhaps. Sometimes he looked so human, just like an impossibly gorgeous man of maybe five or six year my senior.

But then . . .

The monster and his kill sat at my feet and, god help me, a shudder of pleasure shot through me as he grazed my leg with his thigh, pulling himself closer to me on the bed. He grinned widely, like the cat that, quite literally, had gotten the canary.

When I was a kid, we had a hunting dog called Embry. He was my father's Lab, but Embry had an unreasonable attachment to me. He liked to bring me little_ gifts_, leaving dead mice in the front hall by my shoes. His tail would wag so swiftly, his ears twitching with pride at his offering.

Dad would tell me it was just Embry's way of letting me know he loved me.

Manic laughter - or possibly vomit - gurgled into my throat. I swallowed it down, gagging, pinching my nose to block out the stench.

"Meat," he proclaimed softly, making the bile in my throat nearly impossible to hold back. "I remember lapin being a delicacy in France. I don't know much about cooking, but maybe we could look up some recipes on Carlisle's computer? I'm afraid I've forgotten more than most mortals will ever learn." He chuckled lightly, completely oblivious to the stink coming off of his spoils or, for that matter, the maggots I imagined worming their way beneath the flesh.

Still unable to speak, I managed a little choking noise as he babbled on. "It's a clean kill."

Gasping in a gust of air through my mouth, I swore. "What the fuck, Edward?"

"What's the matter?" He furrowed his brow in a perplexed manner.

"You brought me . . . a dead rabbit?"

"I broke her neck quickly," he added, his grin wilting somewhat.

The rabbit's fur looked like it had been fox-brown, but I couldn't be certain. A reddish black circle matted the fuzz near its throat, and I could discern the path the blood had taken down its tummy as it bled out. Did a bone shard tear an artery when Edward broke the poor creature's neck?

"That's . . . disgusting. It's gruesome. You thought I'd want this?" I gagged again, a belch rising from my larynx.

"Oh!" Realization illuminated his eyes, the whites glowing slightly where the sunlight hit. "Don't regurgitate, love. You've had such little nourishment."

But I couldn't stop it. I threw the blankets off my body and ran to the bathroom, barely making out the sound of Edward's timid footfalls behind me. As I knelt in front of the toilet, I could hardly summon the will to care he was watching me vomit . . . again.

My nose drew in fetid air, tears coursing down my face and lava spilling forth. When the final vestiges of my stomach emptied out of me and my chest finally stopped convulsing, Edward knelt beside me and gathered my hair away from my face.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, contrite and tender, into the nape of my neck. "I can't believe I managed to mangle this up as well."

I couldn't quite speak. The air in my lungs felt heavy, infused with dust and decay - my sinuses thick with mucus. As if sensing my discomfort, Edward warmed a washcloth with water from the tap and placed it gingerly in front of my nose. I placed my hand over his, drawing the warm cotton over my chapped mouth and under my nose. I grappled for toilet paper on the wall, but the hanger was empty.

"Kleenex?"

"No, I'm sorry. We don't have any bathroom tissue whatsoever. Use the washcloth," he insisted, and I blew my nose into it.

"What were you thinking, Edward?" I barked through my raw throat.

"The rabbit?" he asked cautiously.

"It was. . ." Oh god. Thinking about it made me gag again. The stench would be an indelible olfactory memory now.

"I imagined we'd cook it," he said smoothly, bowing his face into into my hair again. The sensation of his mouth on my skin coupled with the sensation of nausea, waning and waxing like radiation through my skull, left me dizzy, the bathroom walls advancing and retreating with every breath.

"It was half-decomposed."

"No! Of course not. It's a fresh kill . . . I wrapped it up and put it in a satchel. Was that not the right thing to do?"

"That's . . . well, that's just stupid, Edward," I managed weakly. "You didn't pack it in ice. You didn't even drain the blood. I mean, how long did it sit in that bag for?"

"Er, a few hours." His even voice rippled with hesitation.

"That's what caused the stench." I knew a little bit about hunting from Charlie - enough to recognize the rabbit was not fit for human consumption.

"Yes. Yes, I can see that now. I'm afraid I have much to learn." He stood, offering me his hand, but I shook my head, not moving from my spot.

"I have vertigo," I offered by way of explanation. "I just want to lie on the floor for a few minutes."

He nodded. "May I get you something to drink? Carlisle has procured fruit juice."

"Yeah," I said eagerly. "Please . . . and Edward? Take that rabbit-thing with you."

"Yes, love."

He shut the bathroom door as he departed, and I crawled away from the commode, moaning as I lowered myself to the ground.

"Fuck," I muttered. The tiled floor, cool against my cheek, quelled the flash fever that burned through my head. "Fucking, fuck . . ."

"_Stop!"_ a whisper in the air insisted, so faint it must have come from my own mind.

"Fuck you," I cursed at the non-entity. Nervous laughter bubbled out of me and ricocheted off the walls - the ebb and flow of sound and echo. That's what the voice was! Only a noise followed by the memory of it. Some memories echoed in silence too.

"_She can hear you!" _an unearthly soprano chimed through the air.

"Gaahh!" I jammed my finger into my ear as if trying to dislodge the sound.

"_She can hear you!"_

I froze, holding my breath, listening to the haunting reverberations of the alien voice. Rolling carefully onto my back, I surveyed the bathroom quickly for its source.

"Who's there?" I whimpered lamely.

"_You know who I am,"_ the voice hissed._ "I'm the fox in the chicken coup."_

Panic-cold fear, intrinsic and true - immobilized me under its loathsome weight, pinning my body to the floor like a trussed turkey.

A hen to the fox.

"Edward." I whispered his name like a desperate prayer. "I need you."

"_I'm so close. I could snatch you up before you had breath enough to scream."_

"Please," I begged. "I just want to go home-"

"_You belong to us now."_

"Please-"

"_You won't be food for much longer . . ."_

The door catapulted open as if spring-loaded; a terrible, shrill scream reverberated from every corner of the small room. I crawled, clawed, caterwauled, but couldn't untangle myself from the arms that surrounded me like a steel cage.

"Let me go!" I wailed, thrashing against cold, cold stone. I found myself on my back, my attacker beneath me, hard and oddly inert. Pain grated across my spine as I wrestled with the monster, along with my better senses. She offered no assault, but her body was a weapon.

"Bella!"

"Edward," I squealed in relief at the sweet sound of his voice. "Edward, help me!"

"Please, love," his voice urged in my ear. So close.

"Make her let go of me!"

"Listen to me." I could feel blood vessels break beneath my skin, bruises blooming where the arms held me in place. Every inch of me ached and burned.

"I'm dying," I croaked.

"You're not. I've got you, but please stop struggling."

"Edward?" I stopped moving. The body beneath me slackened, and I went limp.

"It's me, love. Just me. I got you."

My nostrils flared almost painfully as I drew in his familiar scent. My mind split in two, screaming at me to fight him and pleading with me to surrender.

"The voice?" I whispered, drawing my hands over his arms. "What was that voice?"

"I- I have no idea why you're talking about." He panted as if he'd been running a marathon-and was human.

"She-the voice was everywhere."

"There's no one here but us," he insisted gently, nuzzling into my hair. "Just us."

"She called me food. Maybe it was Rosalie?"

"Rose isn't here, Bella. She's been gone all day." His arms tightened around my torso, a dull pain biting beneath my ribs. "I'm worried about you. It's not natural to hear voices that aren't there."

_It's not natural to be kidnapped by a vampire, either._

"Let me up." My voice didn't sound like my own - it had a muffled quality to it, like I was underwater.

Edward lifted me onto my feet, still keeping me locked in his embrace. Cool breath caressed the back of my neck, and I shuddered, slapping my skin.

"Let go of me."

He did, and instantly I wished he hadn't.

"Drink this," he said warily, passing me a juice box. Without hesitation, I took the straw between my parched lips and pulled the cool liquid down my throat. "Slow down," he warned me. "Carlisle said you mustn't drink quickly or you'll vomit again."

The box emptied. "Fuck Carlisle."

xxxx

I wrapped my arms around my knees and rocked on the bed. "Now?" I pleaded, glaring at Edward as he sat maddeningly still across from me in a wicker chair.

"It's not dark enough," he said, shaking his head.

Something rippled on the wall in my periphery. A snake . . . a coil of hair . . . a blonde girl in a mud-stained dress? The shadows had teeth.

"It's plenty dark," I whispered from the depths of despair.

"I can't drive in daylight."

"Why not?"

"My skin. It refracts light like a prism." He held his hand near the window to illustrate his point. The waning sunlight erupted into fireflies off the back of his palm. "It's particularly strong during the sunset - too conspicuous."

"It's pretty. I like your skin."

He stopped moving and stared at me, his eyes widening.

"Do you not find it grotesque?"

"No," I replied sullenly. "Everything about you is . . . I like the way you look."

He smiled, his lips stretching widely across perfect, white teeth - deadly and beautiful. One corner of his mouth angled slightly higher than the other, his cheeks hollowing beneath the prominent cheekbones. He stood slowly, entreating me to take his hand.

I shook my head at the offer, but as the shadows lengthened on the wall and a whisper of air breezed unnaturally over the nape of my neck, I scooted down the bed and grasped his hand.

"You're doing well," he said with random encouragement.

"I'm going insane," I replied with a disdainful snort.

I didn't trust my senses at all. Part of me wondered if I'd been shot in the head back in Port Angeles. Maybe this was hell . . . not that I believed in that kind of thing. Maybe I was in a coma, and Edward was a nightmare. Except, was it really that terrible? An even smaller part of me realized if I woke up from this dream, I'd be relieved . . . and disappointed.

"You're going to be fine, my love. I know things seem bleak to you at the moment, but I swear on my life that nothing bad will ever harm you again."

I wanted to believe him.

If this really was a nightmare, maybe I could find my way out. Maybe I could change the story.

**A/N – I'm so fail at updates last week. I apologize for the delay. Tomato had a double update. I also work full time and have a sick kidlet at the moment.**

**I post previews on my FB page and tweet links as it's become difficult for me to post them any other way. Follow or friend me if you're interested in that sort of thing. **

**All reviews are read and replied to! Sometimes I reply to them aloud though instead of by email. Is this a problem? Big balls of buzzy love to everyone who takes the time to make my phone buzz.**


	9. Bite to Eat

**A/N ohai! Are you still reading? Uh, sorry, Shadow is my red-headed stepchild of fic. Tomato gets updated twice weekly, but this one is a little difficult. I'm having trouble keeping the humour out of it so it's turning dark comedy-ish. Thanks to mac for beta'ing me, and to DoUTrustme and katinki for pre-reading.**

A preternatural mist crept through the trees as we hiked in the gloaming, Edward's hand entwined with mine keeping me afloat in the chaos of my mind. Upturned roots bit at my feet, threatening to trip me.

So easily I could slip and fall into hysterics.

_Don't look down_, my mind wisely insisted. Of course I disobeyed.

Cloud completely concealed the forest floor, and my breath caught in my throat at the memory of the nightmare I'd had when we first arrived. I shook myself off, doing my damnedest to keep moving, my heartbeat racing in pace with my feet.

"You're silent," Edward remarked. "What are you feeling right now? I'm so . . . curious."

"You're always curious," I grumbled, glaring at his brow carefully so as not to get sucked into the whirlpool of his eyes. I decided to be blatant. "I'm imagining an angel licking blood off my limbs."

He stopped suddenly, becoming rigid, drawing me to him in a swift motion. So quickly - too quickly - I landed against his chest, striking like a pendulum.

"I'd never hurt you." His breath washed over my face, and I fought against the undeniable tide of his strange thrall.

"You've already hurt me."

"Never, Isabella."

How dare he? Did he think he could make me forget everything?

"I hate you," I cursed against his shirt but made no move to separate myself from his embrace.

"I'm so sorry."

"I don't want you." The words were blasphemy, and even as I said them I drowned in him, my entire body humming to life.

"You don't mean that," he stated as fact.

"Fuck you." I wanted to punch him, to knock the smooth, calm expression from his perfect face. Beyond anything, his chiseled expression enraged me.

But I couldn't hit him.

Acting upon pure impulse and having already succumbed to insanity, I reached for him, at first in anger but it transformed quickly into something baser.

I settled my hand on top of his crotch.

He gasped, his composure finally snapping as his head rolled back and his eyes fluttered closed.

"This is sheer madness." He crumpled to his knees, and I followed suit, unyielding, rubbing his length through the soft cotton of his trousers. He hardened under my diligent fingers, a low moan rumbling through him. "Please . . ." he begged; I wasn't sure for what. "This isn't right . . . you mustn't."

I ignored him, and his protests were weak at best. "Am I still your prisoner?" I asked brazenly, perhaps emboldened by putting distance between us and that house. I no longer possessed the good sense to be afraid.

"I'm yours," he grunted. "Your power over me is absolute . . . please, love. We can't do this."

A thrill stirred in my abdomen and throbbed inside of me . . . _that _part of me; I blushed whenever I attempted to name it. I writhed, pressing my thighs together and biting my lip to suppress a moan. He smiled nervously, flustered by my obvious desire. I needed to get a handle on my emotions, my desire. If I could stop looking at him, perhaps. But the moon betrayed me by bathing his face in light, casting a pearlescent sheen over his skin.

So beautiful.

"I want..."

"Anything," he groaned, tilting his hips as I continued to caress him.

I closed my eyes and counted, willing my heart to stop racing. My stomach growled angrily.

"I want a cheeseburger."

"Pardon me?" He ceased his gyrations.

"A cheeseburger Happy Meal," I explained. "I'm ravenous."

His hand covered mind, gently easing it away from his erection. "Are you feeling ill?"

"I'm not . . ." I fought for language, searching my vocabulary for the right word before finally settling on, "well." It felt like an understatement of fact.

"May I carry you the rest of the way to the car?"

I nodded in acquiescence, leaving the woods as I'd entered them three or four long days ago: helpless in his arms.

xxxx

The car in question wasn't really a car but a relic of a farm vehicle. I stretched my legs forward and yawned as Edward climbed gracefully into the driver's seat.

"What is this?"

"A 1947 Mercury," he said with a strained chuckle. "One of Henry Ford's best."

"Will it run?" I asked nervously.

"Yes, of course. It's been faithfully reliable for the last half-century . . . with a few minor refurbishments."

"Ah huh." My voice was wary which seemed to amuse him.

"Don't worry, my sweet; nothing will stop me from getting you your Happy Meal." He smiled widely, all teeth and sparkling eyes. I wanted to touch him again. My fingers twitched, and I grasped the seat on either side of my hips.

"Hold on to my arm," he said suddenly, offering it to me. Obediently I clasped one hand over his bicep, the other on his forearm. "No seat belt," he explained apologetically, his breath releasing in a pleased sigh as I clutched him tighter. "I'm afraid the ride out of the woods will be a little bumpy, although Rose and I recently updated the rear suspension."

I really hated when he spoke his sister's name. My nails automatically dug fruitlessly into his unyielding flesh.

I wanted to mark my territory, but only succeeded in breaking my nails.

"It's fine," I whispered. "Just . . . get us out of here."

He nodded and wrenched the ancient gearshift into reverse, not even turning his head to check potential blind spots. I spied on him in the side mirror and shuddered: his eyes moved independently of one another just like Carlisle's did.

"Please," I sputtered. "Try to act more human. The eye thing is grotesque."

His full, bottom lip dropped in surprise. "I didn't mean to disgust you. Yes, of course I'll be mindful of my less than human affectations." His head bowed slightly, shamefully. I rubbed his arm with the tips of my fingers.

"You don't disgust me, Edward. You're very handsome."

"But the monster in me terrifies you still," he said flatly, turning the wheel with a casual grace, guiding the vehicle onto what looked like a major road. Were we really this close to the highway all this time?

"I'm sorry . . . it does. You eat people."

"Rarely," he corrected, his mouth settling into a grim line. "And never again. I swear, Bella, I'll prove myself to be-"

"Please don't say worthy of me." My temples already ached from hunger and delirium, and that trite sentiment sickened me further. "This . . . whatever this is between us - let's just kill the melodrama. Let's talk about something else."

"What would you like to talk about?" Edward's grimace transmuted seamlessly into an enthusiastic smile, contracting faster than the snap of a rubber band.

"Uh, I don't know. Tell me something about yourself - something about your human life."

His smile faltered. "My human memories are hazy."

"Maybe you don't want to remember," I countered.

He shook his head. "I don't think so. My mind worked differently back then."

"Vampire memories are sharper?"

"Yes. We have the ability to concentrate on many things at once and possess nearly perfect recollection. I can only remember a meager few pivotal events from before the change."

My lips turned down at the corners, my chest aching unexpectedly.

"I remember my mother sometimes." His eyes flashed at me sadly. "If I knew what would become of me, perhaps I'd have paid closer attention."

"You sound wistful."

"Do I?" he asked softly. "How interesting. Yes, I suppose I feel nostalgic at times for my human self around you."

"Why?" I stared at his jaw as he spoke, the muscles clenching with tension.

"I'm quite certain you would have liked me." He laced his fingers with mine and rested our entwined hands over the gearshift. My thighs tightened together.

"I . . . like you." A perverse desire settled in my abdomen, making me want to grind myself against the seat.

"Tell me something about your _human_ life?" he asked with a smirk. Was he mocking me or did his statement imply something else?

"I want to be a surgeon," I said quickly, closing my eyes as I spoke. "I've applied to college, but my dad can't afford it, so I was thinking of spending another year in Forks rather than borrowing money."

"A bank loan?" He asked gently, and I nodded. "You don't like to feel indebted to anyone, do you?"

"I guess not." I opened my eyes to glare at him. "I also don't like feeling out of control."

"You're in complete control over me now. Don't doubt that." He squeezed my hand gently and brought it to his mouth, ghosting a cool kiss over my palm. "Your hand smells lovely."

"That's a very odd thing to say." I pulled my hand away from his, instantly regretting the loss of contact. Rage ignited in my belly; I was utterly dependent upon him. Sick. "There's a McDonald's in Port Angeles. Stop there, okay? I need to pee."

"Can you wait until we get to Tacoma?" He sounded flustered.

"Not unless you want me to piss myself again. It's kind of becoming old hat."

"No. I just . . ." He didn't seem to want to state the obvious.

"You're afraid I'll try to escape once we're in public." I laughed meanly.

"No, Bella. I'm afraid I'll slaughter the entire restaurant; I haven't fed in days."

"I'll pee in the bushes."

"No." Edward had the audacity to chuckle. "I'll make a pitstop. It shouldn't be too difficult to find elk, even this close to the road."

"Okay, but don't bring me back any of your leftovers this time."

xxxxx

The fluorescent lights made my entire body itch. Above the noise and bustle of the crowd in McDonald's, I heard the incessant buzzing.

"Edward," I whispered, standing outside of the bathroom. "Where are you?" I placed my palm flush against the door but couldn't summon the courage to move.

"Here, love. I'm not leaving you." He rubbed the small of my back.

A man sat with a small child, mindlessly shoveling fries in his face. Something about him seemed _off_.

"It's not safe," I protested.

"You're perfectly safe," Edward assured me.

"I can't do it." Tears coursed down my face, bitter fear tightening in my throat. "I can't be by myself."

"I'll be just outside the door." He kissed my ear as he spoke. "No one will ever hurt you. I won't let it happen."

I pushed forward, whimpering pitifully as I pulled away from Edward's touch. The bathroom had only three stalls and two sinks - it looked completely harmless.

_So why am I so freaked out?_

I drew in a slow, deep breath and kept my mind occupied by talking stock of my body's fear response. My heart raced, and my eyes dilated, making everything feel unreal and fuzzy around the edges. My fingers and toes tingled as my body directed blood to my torso. Still, I breathed evenly, counting slowly, waiting for my parasympathetic nervous system to counteract the panic attack. Any second now, the fear would peak and fall; I'd be able to breathe properly.

Counting by tens, I checked all the stalls to make sure I was alone and slipped in quietly, choosing the furthest one from the door. I draped the seat with toilet paper and sat down, sighing in relief as my bladder released and the uncomfortable pressure in my lower abdomen lightened. My head dropped forward, and I opened my eyes, trying not to freak out at the familiar linoleum floor . . . so much like the 7-Eleven.

As my urine dripped to a stop, I heard the unmistakable sound of footfalls echoing in the small room.

"Edward," I squeaked, jumping to my feet.

No answer.

_Killers like moving targets, my mind told me wisely. I wouldn't move._

I pulled my jeans slowly up my hips, biting my lip to keep from crying, from making any noise that would betray my location.

A pair of feet stopped outside my stall - heavy black boots and the cuffs of camo pants.

_Another shotgun blast exploded through the tiny store, and my ears rang, my mind numb with shock. My blood rushed in my veins; I could hear the steady whooshing. I concentrated on the rhythmic pulse of my heart, the reassuring metronome that signified I was still alive._

He'd found me. Somehow, he'd found me.

I screamed Edward's name, pleading with him to save me, to kill the gunman for good this time.

The stall door separated from its hinges and exploded against the tiled wall, before white, now crimson.

"I'm sorry," Edward sobbed.

A body lay pinned beneath him, blood covering them both.

"The gunman?" I heard myself ask.

"No," he snarled like a dog gnawing on a fresh bone. "It's female."

A gurgling sound bubbled out of her throat, her eyes fluttering, rolling back into her head.

"She's still alive."

Edward's viper teeth receded into his gums, saliva pouring out of his mouth and onto a cavernous wound on her neck. Blood spouted in bursts like lava from a volcano.

"There's a chance . . . if I dress the wound she might survive." He licked the blood from his chin as he spoke, gazing wistfully at the gore, pressing his finger directly into the laceration to quell the bleeding.

"Finish it," I told him. "She's seen too much."

**A/N - I love you, random stranger. Please review me?**


	10. Blood Roses

**Author's Note: Thank you so much to my betas on this chapter, Mac and Lumedog7. Also to DoUTrustMe and Katinki for pre-reading. Just a warning, there's a taboo I kind of touch upon at the end of this chapter. I have no clue how to write a disclaimer for it. Um, do you know katinki? She wrote Renfield and Chiclets? This was her note: "jesus god vomiting a little here." It's never my intention to offend.**

_When he sucks you deep,_

_Sometimes you're nothing but meat._

-Tori Amos, Blood Roses

No. I didn't really see her - the woman, her dark hair curling at the nape of her neck, wet with blood. Her body arched off the ground, convulsing as Edward kept his finger on her carotid artery, trying to close the wound.

Careful so as not to get any blood on me, I stepped over her leg and knelt beside Edward, placing my hand on the small of his back, breathing - just breathing. He felt odd - hot against my skin - sending a shock of warmth up my arm and into my lungs, calming my racing heart.

Her blood warmed his body to a human temperature, but he never looked more like a monster. I shuddered but not entirely with fear.

"You did this for me." My voice shook.

"Don't blame yourself-"

"Because you thought she'd hurt me?"

"You cried out," he said carefully, a violent emotion seeming to tear through his chest as he snarled out something akin to a sob. "The instinct to protect you took over. I'm so sorry, I-"

"Please, Edward, don't castigate yourself. I can't handle it right now." I rubbed my sore temples and stared at the blood-splattered wall, red roses against a stark canvas.

_He gave me roses..._

He needed to end this now, to put her out of her misery and kill her quickly, mercifully. If he didn't she could become like them . . . a vampire. Wasn't that how Carlisle was changed - from a vampire bite?

The sooner he took care of her, the sooner she'd be at peace . . . and I'd find solace too. Despite the blood soaking his shirt and the carnage on the floor in front of him, my body burned and ached for contact with him . . . skin to skin.

A quiet voice in my mind pleaded with me to be rational, to take stock of the situation . . . to really look at the woman on the ground and make the right decision. Was there really no way to save her? My throat tightened, a sob trying to force its way through. The words sat on the tip of my tongue, but Edward spoke before I could find my voice.

"It's not a clean wound. There's no way to get the venom out of her system in time."

"Will the venom kill her?" I barely whispered.

"Change her. Unless she dies first."

Desire and self preservation screamed louder than that little church mouse squeak of sanity.

_Not human_, I told myself, my inner-dialogue sounding strangely like Rosalie. _Just a monster or meat_. _She's already gone._

"Kill her," I told him again, doing my damnedest to ignore the terrible guilt churning inside my stomach. This wasn't my fault - her death. Like a petal on the mercy of the wind, a force beyond my control guided me, and I landed in a war zone. My instincts dictated my actions; having lost everything else, I clung to them.

_Not human, not human, not human . . ._

"Bella," Edward growled, his eyes obsidian, looking very much like the monster I accused him of being. "I could try. Perhaps if I wrap the wound and-"

"And what? Call an ambulance?" My logical mind took over: the girl would tell on Edward if she lived, and he'd be taken from me. If she turned, she'd probably kill everyone. Neither option was viable.

"She's suffering . . . and we're going to get caught." Tears fell down my cheeks, but my voice stayed remarkably calm. "I'm in charge, you said."

"You don't really want me to do this," he hissed, and his face contorted as a spray of blood escaped from the wound, the hollow beneath his cheekbones growing more pronounced, his eyes narrowing into slits.

"There's no choice, Edward. Kill her. Do it quickly."

He nodded, the decision made easily because he _wanted_ her. His eyes glistened with triumph as he drew his upper lip high over his teeth. "Don't look . . . wait for me outside the door. Don't let anyone in."

But my feet remained firmly planted to the floor.

"Don't look," he begged again, the fangs straining over his lips making it difficult for him to speak. I didn't want to look at him in this state, but my need to be near him made it impossible to think clearly.

"I don't want to leave you," I said pathetically. Even covered in gore - his body contorted in its predatory state - my entire being craved him.

"You need to, love. You need to be on the other side of the door while I take care of . . . this situation. Just stand outside. I'm not leaving you. I promise."

He was right. I needed to act as a sentry. Reason couldn't be denied. "Okay," I said softly, stopping at the sink to wash my hands. "I'll be outside the door . . . what will happen to the body?"

"I'll clean up the mess," he said simply, tearing his eyes away from his prey to look at me. "Everything will be fine, Bella. This isn't your fault."

I nodded, walking slowly, heavily as if the room was full of water. Opening the door, I repeated the mantra in my mind: not human, not human, not human . . . but the words were lies.

Shit, what now? What could I do but wait? Also, how would we leave without being noticed? Edward's shirt was covered in blood.

The overhead lights no longer seemed as bright because I'd developed tunnel vision. A jacket hung on a chair to my immediate right, dark and heavy, guarded only by a toddler in a high chair. Without thinking I lunged for it, nearly tripping and hitting my head on the chair. The little girl smiled and waved at me as I balled up the coat and stuck it under my shirt, leaving a ridiculous bulge over my abdomen.

"Hi," I said, smiling mechanically. "Where's your mommy?"

"Dada get nappies," she replied with surprising clarity.

"Alice?" I heard a man call.

"Dada!" she squealed in reply, giggling.

"Shit!" I rearranged the coat so it looked more like a pregnant belly. Did her father see me steal his jacket? "Nice meeting you, Alice," I said quickly, turning my back to her.

"Buh-byeeee!" I heard her laugh as I took cautious steps back toward the bathroom, slumping my shoulders forward and holding onto the bundle in my shirt. When I reached the safety of the door, I peeked back. Alice's _dada_ afforded me a mildly quizzical glance before directing his attention back to the little girl. She chirped like a baby bird, dipping her fries in ketchup.

Sighing, I pressed my back to the wall, imagining my body flush against Edward's cool chest, his arms wrapped around me. Had anyone heard what happened in the bathroom - what _was_ happening? I cautioned a glance at the patrons in my immediate vicinity. The man and boy I'd seen moments before I'd gone to the bathroom were gone, their garbage still on the table. In the centre of the room, a gaggle of teenagers swore and snickered at something.

"Fucking hurry up, Jenny!" a girl with pink hair yelled across the restaurant, looking right at me.

"Edward," I whispered, every cell in my body trembling in terror.

"Almost . . . done," he replied, opening the door a crack so I could hear him, the gentle tone of his voice at odds with the snarls that immediately followed.

What was he doing in there? How long did it take to kill- to dispose of a dead body? I'd thought he possessed weird vampire stealth and speed.

Oh, god . . . what was he doing to her? Like the rabbit, would he break her neck before draining her completely? Bile rose to my throat as I thought of her pale skin and crimson-tinged hair. She could have been me if things between Edward and I were different - if he hadn't felt the pull of our connection when he first found me on the floor of the convenience store. Maybe he would have killed me too.

I thought of my father then. Had we ever been like little Alice and her dad? My death would have destroyed him. What would he have done if my remains were found with Mike's and Jessica's?

If I'd died, this random woman wouldn't have.

Who would mourn her? Did she have parents? Oh, god, a child? I looked back at baby Alice and her carefree smile. Was she motherless now?

Terrible thoughts buzzed in my head like a swarm of bees, the noise reaching a maddening crescendo that made me want to scream to block it out. I squeezed my eyes shut and yelped, feeling a shadow darken the space in front of me, the light invading my lids dulling.

"Hey, psycho!" a girl yelled only inches away from my face, dragging me out of my downward spiral of horror. I opened my eyes and blinked furiously as she waved her hand in front of them.

"You can't go in," I said quickly, fully cognizant of the fact I sounded insane.

"Fuck off. I have to pee," she spat.

Emboldened by anger and adrenaline, I pushed my shoulders back and placed my hand on her arm. "Use the men's. My friend is really fucked up in there, and I promised I wouldn't let anyone in."

"Bullshit. _My _friend's in there right now." She grabbed my arm and wrenched it behind my back. "Get the fuck away from the door."

"You're mistaken," I hissed.

"Sally!" Edward groaned loudly from inside the bathroom. "I'm still defecating."

What? Did he just say 'defecating'?

"Um . . . hang in there . . . Jim," I stuttered. "Just keep . . . pooping."

"The fuck?" the girl gasped.

"We went to Taco Bell for lunch. Must've been a bad burrito or something."

She clicked her tongue ring against the roof of her mouth thoughtfully. "Where's Jenny?" she asked finally.

"I told you, no one else is in there. Just Jim. And he's got the squirts, so you really don't want to go in there."

"That bitch better not have ditched me again."

"Sorry. I think she did."

The girl stormed back to her table, muttering "cunt" under her breath.

I opened the door and stepped back in to the small bathroom. Edward smiled vaguely at me, his eyes dark.

He wedged a garbage can under the doorknob so it couldn't be turned from the outside. "I couldn't get the blood out of my shirt," he said apologetically.

"It's okay - I got you a jacket. Where's the body?"

"Gone," he replied automatically, washing his hands with vigour until the water drained clear.

"I don't understand. Gone where?" I couldn't see a window anywhere. Did he somehow manage to stuff it inside the air vent?

"All inconsumable waste was flushed. May I have that jacket, Bella?"

"You flushed the body?" I asked incredulously. "How did you manage that?"

He shrugged the jacket over his shoulder and said in a dismissive tone, "By grinding it into dust with my teeth. Well, the bones became dust . . . the organs were more of a paste. Do you really want these details?"

"No." I swallowed thickly. "The floor and walls are clean."

"I'm very fast." He sounded miserable. I tried to grab his arm, but he side-stepped me, moving just beyond my reach.

"Edward . . ." I tried not to sob, but the rejection stung.

"Let's get that cheeseburger, love."

"But-"

"We're not leaving without it," he growled, the feral noise reverberating off the walls of the eerily clean bathroom.

xxxx

The motel room boasted two double beds with tacky floral print comforters and equally appalling paintings of seascapes on the wall, but it smelled clean, which filled me with a strange sense of hope, despite Edward's sombre expression.

"What's wrong?" I asked quietly.

"I'm going to take a shower," Edward replied, ignoring the question.

I unzipped the small bag he brought in from the car and recoiled as stale air wafted out. It smelled like rotting pine and mildew, just like his house did. Christ, I wanted to burn it.

"There are a few outfits for you to wear and some warm pajamas. We'll go shopping for more clothing as soon as you feel up to it."

I pulled a flannel nightshirt out of the bag and frowned. "Is this Rosalie's?"

"I . . . yes. I'm sorry; her wardrobe was my only option." He cast his gaze to the floor and unbuttoned his stained shirt, exposing taut, pale skin over lean muscle. I stared, fixated by the way his stomach rippled as he turned away from me.

"Edward," I whispered with uncertainty.

"Don't look at me." He sounded mournful.

"Why?"

"The disgust . . . I know what you think of me." His shoulders hunched in shame.

He'd mistaken my lust for repulsion? I should have been sickened by what he'd done to that woman, but my body screamed for him, drowning out reason.

"I don't think you have any clue what I'm thinking right now." I laughed, slowly walking towards him. "If you had any clue at all . . ." He'd probably chastise me for being a woman of loose virtue. He wanted me, but every time I tried to touch him he responded as if I'd besmirched him.

"I'd what?" He turned around and went straight for my proverbial jugular by staring directly into my eyes. My knees buckled, butterflies rising in my stomach and spreading warmth throughout my body.

"I'm not sure. Maybe run screaming from me." I licked my lips, feeling the apex of my thighs becoming wet.

"I don't think that's how I would react," he said smoothly.

"I don't want to be alone." I peeled the jacket off my back and lifted the hem of my shirt over my head with slow, nervous fingers. "Can I come into the shower with you?"

"Bella," he whispered, capturing my hands - at first I thought to restrain me so I couldn't undress. "I've been trying to be a gentleman. Is that not what you want?" His breath husky against my cheek tickled my skin as me brought his hands to the clasp of my bra. "I'd very much like to finish undressing you."

"Me too." I tried to sound seductive, but my voice came out too young and unsure.

He brought his lips to my nipple, licking it tentatively. I threw my head back and moaned, the sensation making moisture drip down my leg.

How could I be this wet?

"I'm dizzy, Bella. This is too much . . . I want too much." He dropped to his knees and licked a cool line down the inside of my thigh. "Your taste . . ." His groan transformed into a chorus of snarls. I tugged at his hair, crying out at his insistent tongue.

"Higher," I begged, writhing and tilting my hips toward his him like a flower bud seeking sunlight. I opened and bloomed, warm liquid pouring down my leg like honey.

Honey.

I opened my eyes and looked down. Edward's tongue lapped at rivulets of blood as it dripped down my leg.

"You bit me?" I gasped, staggering backwards. "I'm going to die . . . I thought you loved me," I cried plaintively.

_Not human!_

"No, love . . . I'd never hurt you."

"Then what?"

"You're menstruating."

**A/N Sorry, sorry, sorry! I'm waiting for the squicked reviewers to throw tampons at me (ewwwww). **

**FFn made it nearly impossible to reply to reviews last week. I think I managed half of them. Some of you have your profiles set so that I can't reply. I'm going to reply to all reviews of this chapter! It'll be nonsensical drivel though. **

**Soooooo . . . how are you?**


	11. Communion

**A/N - Thank you so much to mac and jkane180 for their beta efforts. I'd suck without them.**

I staggered away, watching in abhorrence as Edward licked his lower lip, still rosy with my stain. My entire body trembled in terror, my stomach roiling as I swallowed gulps of air in a futile attempt to stave off nausea. His consumption of my blood . . . of the girl in the bathroom - these images flashed in my mind, splicing into the film of my nightmare. These were violent, macabre portents, the blood on my legs a reminder of the murder we'd committed.

Like Lady Macbeth, I'd never be clean.

"Bella." Edward panted on his knees, his back hunched forward in supplication.

"Stop, stop, stop," I chanted.

His head jerked upward, and he drew me into his thrall, pleading, his black, copper-flecked eyes sparkling like granite. "Do not be afraid of me, love. I'm perfectly in control of my hunger."

"I can't let you do this."

"I'll stop if it makes you uncomfortable," he said earnestly.

"It's gross."

"No . . . it's beautiful. Imbibing your menses feels ceremonial, like you're offering the sweetest, most intimate part of yourself to nourish me. It isn't gross, my love. This is Communion." His hands stroked my blood-streaked flesh with irksome reverence.

"Stop. I think you've had enough blood on your hands for one day."

He cast a hurt glance at me and replied simply with, "Touché."

"Her blood is on my hands too." _And my legs..._

"What do you need? I'll give you anything you want." He bowed his head in veneration, and a flicker of thought fluttered through my mind as I noticed his nostrils flare, his face in a staggering proximity to the source of my slow bleed.

"We're monsters . . . both of us." I choked on a sob.

"No," he said simply, dragging his fingers over the inside of my thighs again. My legs trembled under his ginger caress. "Please, Bella? Please let me taste you?"

"No!" I screamed, nearly tripping over him as I ran into the bathroom. "We're monsters!" I grabbed a hand towel off the vanity and wadded it between my thighs.

"Neither of us is a monster," he said calmly, gently. "And the woman's death is not your fault."

A sharp ache shot through my abdomen. I doubled over, wiping myself with the towel, praying for this uncharacteristic heavy flow to let up.

"Original sin," I whispered, laughing bitterly at the irony of my words.

"Are you Christian? Catholic . . . would you like to see a priest?" he asked, keeping his voice soft.

"So I can confess and be free of my sin?" Because that would be so easy.

"Yes, love. This is not your sin, but if you seek absolution then-"

"No! I don't believe in god." I could never reconcile religious dogma with my belief in science.

His brow furrowed. "But you mentioned scripture."

"Yes, and I was being irrational. I'm not a Catholic, and I don't believe in god."

Except, the events of the past few days made me question everything I thought I knew. Could it be all things of fairy tales - angels, demons, gods, and monsters - were real?

I took a deep breath and swallowed back my fear. "I don't want a priest. I do, however, need tampons. Do you know how to find those for me?"

He nodded. "There's a small sundry store across the street. Will you come with me or wait here?"

"I'll stay," I said quickly. "Just . . . hurry. I don't like to be alone." I doubled over again as another violent cramp squeezed my abdomen in a vice.

"Are you in pain? Does it usually accompany your . . . monthly?" He approached me slowly like I was a wounded animal and placed his hand on the small of my back, rubbing gently.

"It's not usually this bad." I winced.

"I think perhaps you should bathe."

"Yeah, I was thinking that too. But could I have some privacy? I really think I can live my whole life without you watching me have a bath again." My face grew hot with embarrassment as I knelt over the tub and turned the faucet.

"I'm very disappointed to learn that, Bella." He actually pouted. "It's quickly become one of my favourite pastimes."

"Um, really?" I practically squeaked.

"Truly," he professed, turning me around. His eyes swept over me with unconcealed lust, his tongue dragging over his bottom lip. "I enjoy looking at your nude body more than I should . . . more than any proper gentleman should."

He smiled, flashing his teeth. I tried not to think about where they'd been.

"Why?" I asked dumbly. "I mean, I know why . . . what's changed? I thought being naked was shameful, what with your delicate Victorian sensibilities."

"Oh, Bella," he said excitedly, an innocent smile radiating across his face, "I can feel our bond growing stronger. It's exquisite. Can you, my love? Can you feel how it's grown?"

"Um . . ." I couldn't help it: I looked at his crotch, giggling nervously at his accidental double entendre. A distinct bulge tented his trousers, almost distracting me completely from the litany of other stains . . . almost. "You have blood and stuff on your pants."

He raised his eyebrow, his smile somewhat reticent. "Would it offend you if I remove them?"

"Your pants?" Oh, god, I wanted him to be naked so badly. What was wrong with me? I swallowed the nervous lump in my throat and said, "I think you're gonna have to."

He turned away, and I could hear him unbuckling his belt. "I hope you find my appearance pleasing," he whispered bashfully.

"You're very handsome, Edward," I replied, knowing that wasn't what he meant.

"Er, well, thank you very much." He dragged his pants down over his hips, leaving his briefs on. His behind was perfectly round and firm-looking. I wanted to touch it, but more than that, I wanted him to turn around.

"Should I continue disrobing?" he asked, and I nodded enthusiastically, barely even noticing the cramping in my belly anymore.

"I want to see you."

"I assure you my genitalia is very much the same as it was when I was human."

"Except it sparkles," I said quickly, nervously. "I don't know why I just said that."

"Will the sparkling bother you? It really only happens in direct sunlight, and I can assure you my penis isn't often in-"

"Stop," I pleaded. "Just . . . let me see."

He turned around, and I gasped as it bobbed. "It's big."

"Average." He shrugged.

It seemed big to me, not just in length but in girth. I'd seen Mike's before, and it was nothing to write home about; Edward's looked like poetry. I had a medical textbook Charlie gave me back at home. Edward's dick should have been the male specimen in the reproduction images.

More than human, it was perfect.

"May I touch it?"

He exhaled a relieved-sounding breath. "Yes. If it pleases you to do so."

"It's . . . so nice." In the vanity, I noticed my neck and face were practically fuchsia. I swallowed nervously and inched my hand towards him. "So . . . I can just go ahead and touch you?"

"I belong to you, Bella. Whatever you want, I'm happy to give."

I wrapped my fingers around his shaft and squeezed lightly, pulling on him slowly until the foreskin reached the top of its head. His skin felt velvety, despite the hardness it ensconced.

"Does that feel okay?"

Edward smiled indulgently. "You can be a little rougher with me, if you like."

"Oh . . . sorry. Harder strokes, then?" I made a tighter fist around his dick and jerked him once, twice, and again in a swift motion. "Like that?"

"Oh, Bella . . . even harder," he groaned, looking intently at where I held him.

I used both hands now, squeezing and pulling in tandem. "Better?" I asked breathlessly.

"Yes . . ." he grunted, his mouth agape, and his eyes black with lust. "I want to pleasure you."

And suddenly I was on my knees, my arms resting on the side of the tub, Edward's erection pressed insistently into my back.

His fingers swept over my breasts; an explosion of lust shot through my belly into my groin, my body heating under his touch despite his cool skin. And before I could stop myself, I moaned shamelessly, coaxing a low, answering grumble from him that resonated through his chest. The sound was inhuman, beast-like, but I arched my back into his touch, straining for more contact.

"I want to make love to you," he whispered against my neck, and I nearly giggled. The statement was so gentle, so out of context with what I knew about him.

"Can we even . . . I mean, you're not even human, right?"

He chuckled. "I guarantee that despite my nature, I'm still very much a man." He sank lower to the floor and drew me onto his legs so that his erection rested in the cleft between my butt cheeks.

I bit into my bottom lip to stop myself from crying out.

His body of stone made me all too aware of my own biology, his silent heart amplifying the raucous echo of mine. He slipped his arm beneath my knees and stood easily, cradling me like a child.

"The bathwater will soothe your ache," he said gently.

"Perhaps you'll let me soothe your ache too?" I smiled at him, swooning as his eyes rolled back and his lids closed. He exhaled a pleased-sounding sigh, tightening his arms around me and easing us both into the tub.

In the water, his body heated to a temperature closer to my own. "We won't make love tonight, my angel," he said smoothly, brushing wet tendrils of hair off my shoulder so he could access my skin. His mouth sought out the dimple of my shoulder - a strange indentation I despised - and he sighed into my flesh, kissing tenderly, drawing goosebumps to the surface and leaving every hair on my body quivering for more of his touch.

"I think I want to, though," I gasped.

"You need to sleep tonight," he said with authority while I prepared to argue. "Tomorrow, though . . . oh, Bella, tomorrow I'm going to have my way with you." He licked and nipped at my ear, still whispering promises of impending pleasure in silky tones. "I'm going to give you orgasm after orgasm - you'll be crying out for mercy, my love, the pleasure will be so intense."

I shook my head. I once tried to give Mike a handjob, and he came long before it was my turn to be touched. "You'll have to stop eventually . . . won't you?"

"Not me," he vowed. "I can go for days. Do you understand what I'm saying, love?"

I shook my head.

"I never tire."

"You mean . . ."

"I can keep my erection for as long as you want it. I can come over and over again . . . one of the benefits of being a monster, I suppose," he said impishly.

I groaned and melted into a gelatinous, amorphous blob.

**A/N - Now that FFn will let me use my review reply links, I promise to be a little better at replying. I'm so sorry if I missed replying to you in the last chapter. I do read and appreciate everyone.**

**I'm building a playlist. Do you have any suggestions for this story?**


	12. Shedding Skin

**A/N - Have you hugged your beta recently? Hugs to Mac, Jkane180, katinki for making this readable. Also snugglehumps to Perrymaxed for coming on as a beta. Yes, I'm a beta h00r. I learn so much from peer reviewing so I take the concrit where I can find it. Also? Perry googled "red winging" for me. Speaking of which, there's a little blood in this chapter. There's also a lemon. **

The morning light peeked through the musty motel blinds, piercing through my slumber. My iron limbs weighted me to the bed. I stretched and rolled over, scrunching my nose up in confusion at the heavy flannel and lace night shirt I wore; I didn't remember putting on before going to sleep. It chafed my neck, the buttons tight around my throat.

Stranger still was the white dress shirt swaddled between my legs and tied around my hips.

"Edward?" I whispered groggily, swiping my eyes with my fists.

"Good morning," Edward replied cheerfully, his brilliant teeth shimmering as he smiled.

"Morning," I croaked. "Am I wearing a diaper?"

"Not exactly. You were asleep when I returned with the sanitary pads, and I didn't want to wake you." He ran his hand over my hip, tugging lightly on the tied shirtsleeves. "I improvised."

"Oh . . . thank you." I grabbed a pillow and covered my face with it, groaning in humiliation. Also, I was pretty sure I'd requested tampons, not pads. Maybe he didn't know the difference.

"Did I make another mistake?" he asked, his tone belying his dejection.

"No. Every girl wants to wake up in a make-shift diaper her newly acquired, supernatural lover fashioned with his clothes." I pushed his hand off me, jumping out of bed. "Gross," I muttered, untying the soiled garment. I really wanted to ask him why it was easier to trundle me in a shirt rather than just placing a pad between my legs, but he already looked so disappointed.

"May I have that?"

"No. Ew! No!" I grabbed a pillow off the bed, briefly considering slapping him across the face with it. "What the fuck is wrong with you? You want to chew on my used pads like a naughty puppy that's ransacked the trash?"

"I'm not going to chew on it." He narrowed his eyes, looking genuinely angry, his lips pulling in a frown. "I simply wanted to dispose of it." I barely noticed as he grabbed the shirt from my hand, sitting beside me and kissing my neck. "Besides," he added, "if I wanted a taste, I'd take it from the source."

I whimpered, crossing my legs and leaning into his kiss.

Memories of what he said yesterday came flooding back to me, a deluge of lust shocking my body awake.

"I have your breakfast," he announced, handing me a brown bag streaked with grease.

And just like that, the lust dissipated.

"What's in it?" Maggots squirmed beneath dead flesh in my memory, my stomach roiling, as I peered inside.

"It's a McGriddle with sausage and eggs," he said warily, contemplating my face. "I hope you like it. I thought it would be prudent to stick with McDonald's until I get to know your taste in food a little better."

"It's perfect," I sighed, relieved, tearing into the package. Despite the dull nausea that still churned in my gut, my body screamed for the greasy breakfast.

"I'm glad it meets with your approval." He sounded pathetic, and I instantly regretted being harsh with him.

"Oh, Edward," I managed between bites. "I'm being a bitch, aren't I? It happens around this time of month," I added for levity.

"You're not . . . don't call yourself that word."

I ignored him, chewing my breakfast mindlessly for a few minutes before noticing his nostrils flaring and his eyes darkening to a creepy onyx. "Wuh?" I asked with a mouth full of food.

"The smell, love." His eyes fixated on my stained underwear.

"Oh, shit! I was so hungry . . . I wasn't thinking." I jumped off the bed and shimmied out of the panties right in front of him since we were well past the need to protect my modesty.

"You'll find what you need in the bag on the nightstand," he said, his voice taking on the texture of gravel.

"Thanks . . . again."

We both looked at the discarded panties sitting in a graceless heap at the foot of the bed.

"Bella . . . may I-"

"Yeah," I said quickly. "Take them. They're yours."

"Just to throw them out," he clarified. "I'm not going to do anything offensive with them. It's just . . . the smell is maddening." He pinched his nose as if he'd come down with a sudden migraine, his brow furrowing violently. "I'm so hungry, Bella. You have no idea . . ."

The words should have frightened me. He was a shark; I was a bleeding lamb, and he wanted to consume me, but his eyes . . . they told a different story.

He wanted to fuck.

"How so?" I asked, approaching him slowly. I grabbed his hand and pulled it away from his face, and he sighed at the sudden contact, his forehead smoothing. I let out a little squeak of pleasure too. I found it unsettling, how my body responded to his touch - even a simple, innocent gesture like holding his hand made me half-crazed with lust. He threaded his fingers through mine eagerly, squeezing.

"I find it difficult to be around you sometimes." He grimaced, inclining his head until our brows touched. "Like I won't be able to control my desires."

"Your hunger?"

He nodded.

"What do you crave more, my body or my blood?" I asked, taunting him, for the life of me I didn't understand why.

"I'd never hurt you," he said, his eyes flashing in dark anger.

"I . . . I think I believe that. I mean, I know you don't want to hurt me, but isn't it in your nature to do just that?"

"No. It goes against my nature to hurt you, Bella. Every cell in my body aches for you. I only want you to be mine. I'd never harm you. Please?" he begged, letting go of my hand so he could wrap his arms around me. He pushed his palms into the small of my back so every inch of our bodies were in contact. "I just want to hold you and kiss you. Please, let me? I've never felt this way before."

"But . . . you said you're hungry," I protested but pressed myself firmly to him.

"For you." He lowered his face to my neck and left cool kisses on my skin. I shivered, sighing with pleasure at the sensation: searing and cold all at once. His mouth traversed the landscape of my neck with a maddening slowness, and he nudged my head back, cupping my chin in his hand to gain access to my throat.

He could've killed me right then. I would have let him. His proximity quelled every survival instinct in me.

"More," I groaned, wrapping my arms around him, uncertain of what I wanted more of, only that I'd never have enough of his touch.

"May I have you?" He tilted his hips, and I could feel his erection straining through his pants. Was he trying to hump me? Mike used to do that when we made out . . . but this was different. He seemed to be teasing me, exercising restraint. Offering me a little taste of himself without overwhelming me.

Fuck me, it was hot.

"You may." My voice trembled. "Edward?"

"Yes, my love?"

"I'm frightened. Will it hurt?"

"I don't think so . . . I hope not." He unbuttoned my night shirt and sighed, running his hands over my stomach and pausing at my ribs.

"You're not sure?" I gasped, arching and twisting, pleading through half-closed eyes for him to touch my breasts. He brushed the undersides of them with the gentlest pressure.

"I've never made love to a human woman before . . . or a virgin. I'll be very gentle; we can stop whenever you wish if it's not pleasurable."

"Okay," I said before I could change my mind. "I want to."

"This is wrong." He pulled away, burying his face in his hands. "Taking your virtue in a tawdry motel room isn't the right way to do this."

"Edward, are you about to go all Victorian on me? Because you can stop." I dropped to my knees, grabbing him by the buckle of his belt. "I'm not virtuous. I've sucked cock. I'll suck yours, if you want."

A strangled groan tore through him. His hand cupped my head, stroking my hair tenderly for a moment before he also lowered himself to the floor. "Lay back," he ordered, his voice firm, commanding.

I shrugged the flannel shirt off my arms and laid it beneath me on the floor.

Edward chose that moment to vanish. Literally, one second he stood above me, his eyes black with want, and the next . . . nothing.

"Um . . . Edward?"

"Just a moment."

"Where are you?"

"Behind you."

His body became a flash of motion and sound, the wind he created rustling my hair like feathers. Before I could speak, a pillow materialized under my head and a towel under my butt.

What the hell?

"I'm eager," he explained apologetically, his bare cock bobbing proudly as he stood, suddenly fully naked, above me. I propped myself up on my elbows to get a better look at him, my tongue dragging across my lip, probably several times. A bead of drool escaped the corner of my mouth like a snake dripping venom.

_Salivation is a normal reaction to lust,_ I reminded myself.

"I want you," I whispered like a tiny mouse, the words barely squeaking out of my mouth. He stared at me, his eyes communicating so much at once . . . I couldn't fathom the emotions behind them. "What are you thinking?"

"I want to love you. I want you to look at me and see the man inside of the monster. Do you think you'll ever be able to see beyond . . ." He dropped to his knees beside me, turning his beautiful face away from mine. "If you have any doubts, Bella, please don't go through with this."

"Edward," I said carefully, trying to control the quiver in my voice. I reached for him, turning his face so he'd have to look at me. "I have no clue about anything anymore. I thought I knew exactly who I was and what I wanted . . . now all I want is you. I swear, it feels like agony when you're not touching me. I need you to touch me. I need you to-"

He silenced me by crushing his mouth against mine, most likely bruising me, but I didn't care. I cried out, a deep keening sound, losing myself in the sheer ecstasy of his kiss. Opening my mouth, I tried to encourage his tongue to caress mine, but he kept a respectable distance between the tender flesh of my mouth and his teeth.

His lips explored my face, my neck, my shoulder, finally settling in the valley between my breasts. "You're so beautiful," he said against my skin. "I almost can't stand it."

His tongue swirled around my nipple, the cool, wet sensation making me writhe and arch off the floor, my nipples becoming stone.

Without thinking, I begged for his dick. "Fuck me, Edward. I need to feel you between my thighs." The words that flew from my lips weren't mine. Clearly, I'd become possessed.

He lifted his head from my breast, his eyes boring into mine, probably trying to decide if I meant what I'd just asked of him. His hand travelled at an achingly show pace down my belly, settling onto the tuft of hair on my pubic bone.

_I wish I'd waxed..._

"May I touch you?"

I nodded, my eyes feeling like saucers as I watched, transfixed by his long fingers. His fingertips disappeared beneath my hair, the tendons in his hand shuddering as he rubbed my clit.

Cold against hot, hard against soft, it was like nothing I'd ever felt. I almost screamed at the sensation, throwing my head back and squeezing my eyes shut, as he stroked and teased me, strumming every nerve ending in my body like a guitar.

I lifted my hips off the ground, encouraging him to explore a deeper region. He acquiesced, dipping his finger barely inside of me, stroking the entrance to my pussy. He knelt down by waist to get a closer look, forcing my thighs apart with his free hand.

"Your hymen's intact."

"You always say the strangest things," I gasped, biting my lip to stifle a moan. "I told you I'm a virgin."

"It's marvelous. I can see it." He withdrew his finger, licking the blood off.

"I think I've reached my limit for weird." I grabbed his wrist to pull him away from my intact hymen, shuddering in disgust at the blood on his hand. "I want you inside of me . . . not your finger."

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, appearing nervous. He grabbed my legs and wrapped them around his hips, settling himself where I craved him, his cool shaft grazing my slit. "The skin flap covered your vaginal canal almost completely."

"That's hot," I said sarcastically. "Look, if you don't want to then-"

He pushed himself forward with an unceremonious thrust, sheathing his dick completely inside of me, groaning the word, "fuck," coaxing a strangled, guttural sound from my throat in response.

Edward stared down at me with wide, horrified eyes while I propped myself up to examine the point at which our bodies were now attached. I cocked my head to get a better angle.

I liked what I saw - being connected.

"Wow," I remarked, having no other word to express how I felt. Actually, I didn't feel very much . . . no unicorns, fireworks, or angels singing. Also, no pain.

"Say something! Are you hurt, love?" He held my hips, seemingly afraid to move.

"So much for my hymen." He had seemed to like it; I was glad to be rid of it.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me." He began to withdraw, but I pressed my feet into his ass to stop him. His eyes narrowed quizzically, his expression metamorphosing from anguish to confusion and finally settling on lust, darkening as I squeezed my legs to urge him forward.

His cock slid easily back in, and I still felt no pain. I did, however, feel what could only be described as butterflies in my belly - like I was nervous but each flutter caressed me with pleasure rather than panic.

"Don't stop," I said firmly. "I like it." I wriggled a little, feeling a dull ache inside me, a throbbing that seemed to demand more friction. My vagina had always felt water tight; being full was such an alien sensation . . . a good one.

He withdrew a little bit and pushed down gently, an explosion of pleasure again shooting through my groin and settling in my belly.

"Oh," I sighed. "It _does_ feel good. Wow."

"I love you," he said with an odd reverence. He laid his body flat over mine so our chests pressed together, keeping his weight balanced carefully on his arms. "Only you," he groaned. "I'll never make love to any one else. Even if you never let me touch you again."

I couldn't imagine not letting him ever touch me again.

"Fuck me," I whispered in reply.

"Oh, sweet Chr-" He pushed forward again, rocking his hips, my body replying in kind, as if I'd done this a million times before. His hips became a flurry of frenzied motion, moving faster than I could keep up with at times, but I tried to move with him, to match each of his thrusts with one of my own.

"Can you come, love?" he inquired breathlessly.

I shook my head. I didn't think so . . . not yet.

He made fists on either side of me, clutching at the worn carpet, and I cried out, begging and pleading with him to give me something . . . I wasn't certain what.

"Please?" I moaned. "Please?"

"Oh, god." A feral-sounding half-growl, half-groan rumbled through him, and he stopped moving, his eyes closing and face twisting with pleasure. "So warm. You're so warm inside, love." He dropped his face to my breasts, kissing every inch of bare skin while muttering gibberish about my temperature, my scent, the blush of my skin - things no one had ever commented on before.

"Did you come?" I asked after several minutes. I'd assumed so since he was no longer fucking me.

"Yes." He chuckled. "I'm going to do the same for you now."

I shook my head. "I've never really had an orgasm. Don't waste your time."

"Even if I fail, love," he said smoothly, lowering his face between my legs, "it won't be a waste of time.

We didn't make it to the bed. When the sun started to set, we were still writhing together on the floor.

xxxx

"Edward?" I called tentatively, padding over the carpet. "Where are you?"

The door opened, and he smiled apologetically. "Just went to find a newspaper. I wanted to check the forecast."

"You can do that with the TV," I reminded him, giggling.

"It might be foggy outside tomorrow," he replied pleasantly.

"Really? You want to talk about the weather?" I bent over, unwrapping the towel from my head and shaking my hair out like a wet dog.

"I'm happy to speak to whatever topic you choose. I only meant to say it's safe for us to go outside in the fog. There's, er, very little direct sunlight." In a very human gesture, he fidgeted with the sleeve of his shirt, his eyes cast downward.

"Are you looking at my legs?" I asked suddenly.

"Yes," he said without a modicum of shame.

"So, you want to go outside?"

"I think it's a good idea . . . if you feel ready."

"I don't know," I frowned, chewing nervously on my index finger. "The last time we-"

"Hush," he whispered tenderly, wrapping his arms around me. "No rush. We'll wait. We have all the time in the world." He actually winked at me, kissing my fingertips. "I'm just heading out to get your supper. Would you like another cheeseburger?"

"Do you think you could find me a pizza?"

"Oh, yes." He laughed. "I'm an excellent hunter."

The smile froze on my face as an object beside the bed caught my attention: a telephone.

"Starbucks, too, please. I want a latte." I took a deep breath trying to calm myself. He'd notice my my heart rate elevated.

"Your wish is my command," he said with a flourish, smiling eagerly.

"Take your time," I said, careful not to make eye contact.

**A/N - upon my betas recommendation, I cut this out of the chapter. I'm pasting it below because it made me giggle:**

_I can't bring myself to regret the decisions that brought me face to face with death… they also brought me to Edward._

I never gave much thought to how I'd lose my virginity. But shedding my hymen to someone who loved me seemed like a good way to go.

**News and stuff - I'm hosting a contest called Spanking the Monkey. Submit your wank! There's a link on my profile :D Also, big love to whomever nominated Stigmata Tomato and my BBS outtake Mac's Cheese for a Gigglesnort Award. I believe voting is open - check out the nominated fics because they're hilarious!**

**FFn is still being a little bitch. I managed to reply to about half of the reviews of the last chapter before it cock blocked me. Hope that won't stop you from making my phone buzz.**


	13. Tether

**A/N - Snuggles to Mac for editing my text, to Perrymaxed for 2nd beta and katinki for pre-reading. **

_Please hang up and try your call again._

I'd only managed to dial my area code and then proceeded to stare at the buttons on the phone until a computerized voice on the other end reminded me I'd failed. An anxious energy twisted in my gut, and I threw the receiver against the wall.

Inertia.

No, not inertia - indecision and panic. Clearly, I'd lost my mind.

Why couldn't I summon the courage to dial my number? I combed my brain for whatever logic remained, trying to untangle fact from fantasy, my emotions a chaotic knot. I felt . . . desperation and fear.

No. That wasn't right either.

Hunger.

A voracious need scorched deep under my skin. Half-crazed with lust, I burned; raking my nails over my shirt, I wanted to tear away my clothes, my flesh. I wanted to decompose to my basest element. The one he craved the most.

Blood.

_Yeah, and that shit isn't right._ I stood suddenly, balling my fists, pressing my knuckles into my hip bones and causing just enough pain to ground me.

I needed to rid my mind of these thoughts, to think lucidly.

But how? Every nerve ending in my body trembled at the thought of Edward, the thin fibrous neurons vibrating at the frequency of his voice. I imagined each tiny thread tying me to him inexorably. I flexed my hands, watching my tendons contract, laughing bitterly at these strange somatic metaphors.

_The brain is only wires in a box. _Obviously my wires were crossed.

I paced the floor in a hapless crescent as if tethered to the bed. I might as well have been.

"Okay, dial it back a bit, Bella. Calm down; you're not in love." My voice jarred me. I'd always been a terrible liar.

Love. I felt love even though I had no idea what romantic love felt like. "Edward," I said, my voice tentative this time. His name sounded like love. I spoke it again, but now it became a question. _How long have I loved you?_ God help me, I felt like I loved him for longer than I'd known him.

Delusional. So goddamn crazy in an embarrassingly textbook kind of way. Just because I read a ton medical textbooks in preparation for college, it didn't exclude me from adapting a stereotypical trauma disorder . . . although, maybe I should have seen it coming.

Crazy. I rolled the word around on my tongue and didn't care for how it made me feel. Besides, I didn't do crazy. I was logical: a female Dr. Spock.

_This is highly illogical, Jim._

This entire _world_ was crazy, though. Nothing was what I thought. My entire belief system had been shattered and reconstructed within a matter of days. I was a complete stranger.

_Think logically_, I screamed at myself. How can I be in love?I barely knew him at all . . . and he wasn't human.

_It's life Jim, but not as we know it._

Right. Not human, except . . . except my entire body craved him in such a compulsive way - as if my reason for existence was now only to make love to him.

That wasn't healthy. Right? I mean, it wasn't.

Edward kidnapped me. This was my chance to escape. Was I some sort of sadomasochist, craving beatings from my master like a demented hound dog?

That wasn't fair; Edward would never hurt me. Where did that thought even come from?

A dull panic itched at my skin as I realized I couldn't go back to being the girl I was. I didn't want to . . . but the scientist that remained deeply buried in my psyche demanded I take a moment to objectively assess the situation.

Between Stockholm syndrome and post traumatic stress disorder, my thoughts bounced like a metronome.

I couldn't go out into public without hallucinating and falling apart. PTSD much? Well, yeah. Disco. Easy to diagnose that.

I felt a modicum of relief categorizing my first set of symptoms and filing them away for further investigation.

But this love thing . . . that was a little trickier to understand.

What did I know about Stockholm syndrome? I bit my lip, sliding down the wall until I landed on my ass with an unceremonious thud. I'd studied this stuff before! It seemed so far-fetched at the time, becoming attached to one's abuser. A person suffering from this perverse psychological phenomenon was said to revert to an infantile state, having had their basic human rights stripped from them.

Um . . . check.

But Edward wasn't cruel to me. He didn't hurt me or force me to do anything I didn't want to do. He just wouldn't let me go.

Right. So he wouldn't let me go, and the only kindness I knew now came from him. This made me grateful and dependent upon him. I could mistake those emotions for love, all things considered.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself back onto my feet and stared at the fallen phone, my body shaking as I picked it up off the floor. I pulled at my tether again, the invisible chains now binding me to Edward rather than the bed. _Oh, fuck, Edward in the bed. _

_No!_

My entire body screamed at me to leave the phone on its cradle, but a tiny shred of doubt buzzed through my brain, gnawing at me like a flea.

_It's okay_, I told myself. A full diagnosis indicated I needed to make this phone call.

I dialed my father's cell phone.

"Swan," he replied after only one ring, his voice broken and rough.

I couldn't speak. A shudder of air escaped my mouth instead.

"Bella?"

Sobbing, I inhaled a tiny whistle of air, not nearly enough to inflate my lungs; the air left me in a _whoosh _as the front door opened. I gasped, tackling the phone like a football, my father's voice still pleading with me to speak.

"No," I whispered at a decibel I knew my father couldn't discern. I shook my head, my hands, my entire body as I replaced the receiver on the cradle, cutting the line. "I didn't speak, Edward. He doesn't know anything."

Still not breathing properly, I wheezed like a balloon with a slow leak.

"You're turning blue, love," Edward said, his voice not quite cold but guarded with a cordial and clinical tone.

"Sorry. I'm sorry." I dropped to my knees. "I'm not escaping. I'm sorry." My voice wasn't my own again. My larynx turned to sandpaper, the sounds I made nothing but crackling leaves and wind.

"Relax, please. Calm yourself and take a nice, deep breath." He collected me into his arms and sat on the bed, rubbing my cheek with his cold fingers. "It's just me, my Bella. It's just me." Over and over again he said the same thing: _just me just me just me . . ._

_I know, Edward. I know. And I'm afraid._

"Are you afraid of me?" He sounded surprised, horrified even, pulling away to contemplate my face.

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "I think I'm afraid of how you make me feel. I shouldn't be feeling these things."

"Why are you so frightened, shaking like a leaf?"

"The phone . . . I thought-"

"That I would punish you," he concluded sadly.

"No. I don't think you'd hurt me. I did think you'd be angry."

"No, love. I know you want your father. I just wish you'd trust me - have a little patience while I figure out how to keep him safe. Do you think he heard you?"

"I'm not sure," I whispered. "Is he in danger?"

"I'll call home tomorrow to see if news has spread about you."

"And if Rosalie thinks Charlie's a liability?"

He squeezed my hand. "I won't let her hurt your father . . . if she threatens him, I'll have Carlisle contain her."

"O-okay." I shuddered, the word 'contain' making me feel ill.

"Don't be afraid, my angel."

My head snapped up. Angel? Strange. I kind of thought of him that way . . . only in the more Old Testament sense of the term.

"Do you love me?" I said, not really understanding why.

"Isabella . . . I love you more than my own life. Do you understand? I'll kill anyone who tries to hurt you or your father. You're going to be fine. _We're_ going to be fine, so please stop worrying."

"I'm gonna be . . . okay?"

"Of course," he said smoothly. "Anything you want is yours. My sole reason for existing now is to cater to your needs."

I shook my head and burst into tears.

"Human emotions are confusing, constantly in flux." He tightened his arms around me, whispering "shhh" while my chest convulsed with silent sobs. I opened my mouth to speak, but I belched instead.

"You are lovely," Edward replied, and my cries transformed into giggles and then hiccups. "You're giving me whiplash with these mood swings, though. Perhaps it's because of your menses?"

"Stop!" I sputtered, jumping off his lap. "I'm having a crisis here, and you're making me laugh and burp."

He shook his head. "I didn't make you burp. You likely just swallowed air or drank a beverage with dissolved carbon dioxide."

I laughed harder. "Did you just call pop fizz dissolved carbon dioxide?"

His brow furrowed. "Yes . . . I could call it fizzy bubbles if you prefer."

"Oh god," I gasped through laughter. "You sound so silly. I mean, one second you're a killer; the next, you're a stuffy character from an Austen novel."

"I don't care for Austen. Could I be one of Poe's monsters at least?"

"Nope! You're Mr. fucking Darcy." My voice took on a note of hysteria.

"Your wish ," he fell back on the bed taking me with him, "my command."

I squealed, trying to tickle his ribs, but the man was like stone.

"I want you to say dirty words." I giggled. "It's just so out of context."

He smiled eagerly. "I'd gladly say any word you like, my love. Anything to make you laugh."

"Do you want to fuck me?" I bit my lip, trying to keep my respiration even.

"Always. Shall we make love again?" He started unbuttoning the collar of his crisp shirt.

"No. That's not what I asked." I swatted his hand, wincing at the sharp pain that shot through my fingers when I made contact. It was like open-palm whipping burnished steel. "I said _fuck_."

"Yes," he said, his voice becoming dark. "I want to fuck you."

"Edward." His name became a drawn-out moan. "I want your cock. Where do you want to put it?"

"Wherever you want it, my love." He lowered his face to my chest, kissing the v of flesh my shirt exposed while his hands roamed beneath the hem. "Take this off," he growled.

I grabbed the shirt and lifted it over my head, revealing my naked torso.

"No brassiere?"

"No . . . clothes are making me crazy today. Like I need to be naked."

He grinned. "I approve of this."

"But it's weird," I shook my head, "like it's almost physically uncomfortable to cover my skin. I feel hot . . . like flushed."

"Yes, love. It's part of being mated - the constant ache to consummate our love. I've felt it for days now."

"Days?" I gasped. "Since when?"

He frowned. "I'd rather not say. It will upset you."

"Tell me," I snapped.

"When I first bathed you . . . the first time I looked upon your nude body." He must have felt me stiffen in his arms. "Please, please don't be upset, Bella. Bella?"

I rolled away from him, a cold nausea creeping around my heart. "I thought you looked lecherous," I choked. "I begged you not to rape me."

"Never, sweetheart." He reached for me, but I shrunk from his embrace. "Even if you didn't feel the same way, I never would have forced myself on you."

"Would you have let me go?"

"Pardon?" He swallowed as if his throat felt tight. I didn't know if it could tighten under emotion.

"If I didn't reciprocate . . . would you have let me go?"

"I think so . . . eventually. Bella, I'm really not a bad man."

"And now, Edward? Will you let me go?"

He shook his head. "But we're mates! Surely you can't want to-"

"Answer the question!"

"Yes," he sad, his voice barely a whisper . . . almost a sob. "Yes, you're free to leave me now if you wish."

"I don't." I shook my head. "I can't be without you. I need you like food or oxygen. It's sick and twisted, but I don't care." I reached for his groin, feeling his dick become solid in his pants. "Fuck me now, Edward. I don't want to make love; I want you to fuck me."

**A/N - Yep, there will be a graphic lemon in the next chapter. Strap on your strap-ons, kiddies and prepare for some fun! I'm so sorry this update took so long. I have three excuses. Let me know if you want to hear them! **

**Voting is still open in Spanking the Monkey. There's a link on my profile if you feel like reading the contest submissions.**

**My phone is charging right now, but I still squeal like a pig every time it buzzes. Thanks so much for reading and getting me off!**


	14. A Question of Evolution

**A/N - Beta'd by jkane180 and Mac214 because they are awesome. Pre-read/peer-reviewed by katinki and Perrymaxed. If there are still any mistakes, it's not because of those fabulous ladies. Warning - this chapter contains a lemon and a reference to Underthebedward from BBS.**

Vertigo overtook me, the cells in my body repositioning themselves as I went from vertical to horizontal at vampire speed. The squeaking of bedsprings under the sudden weight of our bodies was my first inkling that Edward and I were no longer on our feet. When my eyes stopped knocking about in my head, I opened them, drawing in an excited breath at his proximity; my body draped over his so our hips lined up perfectly.

"I'll never get used to that," I breathed.

"Er, this?" Edward's brow furrowed quizzically as he pressed his erection into my pubic bone.

Laughter bubbled from my lips. "No. The way you throw me around with supernatural grace."

"I'll have you know that I don't 'throw you around.' I'm very careful with you, always mindful of not hurting you." His eyes darkened and narrowed, although he appeared sad rather than menacing. "Your bones could become dust, Bella, if I forget even for just one second you're human. If I embrace you too hard, I could crush your ribs; if I make love to you with too much enthusiasm, I could shatter your pelvis." Burying his face into the crook of my neck, his cool kiss near my pulse point created delicious shivers down my spine. I nearly became unhinged at his breath, a whisper in my ear. "You're so precious to me. Do you have any idea?"

"I- I do," I managed, writhing on top of him.

"Do you fear me?"

"Not anymore." To my surprise, I spoke truthfully. Of course reason screamed at me to run away, but my heart - that mysterious muscle that pumped blood through my body and stole my sanity - kept me glued to him. "You're mine."

White light seemed to radiate from him as he grinned widely, revealing the unnaturally pointy bicuspids I'd failed to notice before. I cocked my head, staring at his teeth.

"Um . . ."

His lips snapped shut, his smile transforming into a grim line. "What is it?"

"You don't have molars." My voice took on an accusatory tone; I hadn't intended it to. "I mean, you have canines." I pulled at his lip until he opened his mouth, and I peered inside. "But those teeth in the back look more like eyeteeth than anything else. You're supposed to have three sets of molars!"

"No need," he said simply. "I don't chew my food. I only need teeth for tearing."

"That . . . makes sense." I trembled despite myself. It wasn't fear exactly, but something gnawed at the back of my mind like a tick. "Edward . . . I need to ask you-"

"I disgust you," he said sadly, turning his face away from me like a petulant child. Even his lower lip puffed out in a vaguely erotic pout. My finger found his mouth, tracing his perfect Cupid's bow before settling on the adorably protruded lip.

"Open," I said, using my best soothing tone. "I'm curious, not disgusted."

He shook his head. "It doesn't look human."

"I don't want human."

"Of course you do. You're a lovely girl, and I'm a predator." He sat me upright and disappeared.

"Edward!" I yelled. "Get back here this instant!"

"No," replied a muffled voice.

"What do you mean _no_? And where are you?"

"Under the bed," he said dismally.

I collected myself and knelt beside the bed, peeking under the paisley bedskirt. Edward's eyes - still a murky-red from his recent meal - stared back at me with that odd innocence he possessed. I took a few deep breaths and waited for him to calm down before the ridiculousness of the situation made me want to cackle with inappropriate laughter. It felt like I was trying to lure out a scared kitten. I sighed and choked on a cloud of dust that my impatient breath drew from the ground.

My eyes snapped shut as images of Esme's living room assaulted me - immaculately arranged furniture covered in an inch of filth and neglect. Vampires lived forever but their relics still decayed. I doubted they even noticed.

"I'm tired of having this conversation. You don't disgust me." I reached for his hand, threading our fingers together. "I think I'm doing remarkably well in this situation, all things considered. Just be patient with me; stop freaking out when I become curious about your vampire body and all its quirks. That kind of thing fascinates me."

"Why?"

I shrugged. "I've always had an innate curiosity about anatomy. I've wanted to be a doctor for as long as I can remember, and I have a healthy respect for science. I mean, it's not my intention to make you feel like a freak, and I'm sorry if I upset you. Edward, you have to understand that you're an entirely different species - how could I not be fascinated?"

"I'm acting like a tallywag, aren't I?"

"Uh . . . maybe. Is that like an ass?"

"Yes, only slightly closer to the front of the male anatomy. Was that crass of me?"

I smiled and offered him my hand. "Your figures of speech fascinate me too."

"What else?" He dragged himself from beneath the bed and sat beside me on the floor in one swift motion, at least, that I could discern. "What else fascinates you?"

I pursed my lips. "How do you mean?"

"I want to know more about you."

My eyes closed, and I leaned against his shoulder. Sometimes I wished he would just whisper words - anything - so I could luxuriate in the melodic sound of his voice. It was a strange tenor, clear and smooth, with perfect articulation and lovely round vowels. His accent - I couldn't place it. He had almost a British affectation, like an American actor performing Shakespeare without taking on the accent completely.

No, that wasn't right either.

"Bella?" He chuckled, his breath tickling my ear.

"Yes?"

"Tell me something about you? I want to know everything."

I shrugged. "I can't just talk about myself. It's . . . weird. Ask me questions if you're curious about something."

"That sounds reasonable." He nodded, a grin spreading across his face. I noticed he was careful not to reveal any teeth this time. "Why are you so curious about my body?"

"Because it's hot," I replied without thinking. My cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"Yes, I understand you're physically aroused by it - I meant, why are you curious about my less-than-human characteristics?"

"How could I not be? Holy shit, Edward, you're a completely different species that no one has discovered. I mean, you're human in appearance but almost serpentine in your movements and predatory behaviours. You're Darwin's dream - the next logical step in evolution."

"I don't think I'm what Darwin had in mind."

"What?"

"He told Carlisle that-"

"Shut up!" I gasped. Carlisle knew Darwin?

"Alright."

I gaped, waiting for him to continue. He silently brushed my bangs away from my face and kissed my cheek.

"Well?" I huffed out impatiently.

"Yes?"

"What did he tell him? You said he actually spoke to Carlisle."

"You told me to shut up."

"Shut up, and tell me what he said!"

"He said vampires aren't evolutionary."

"Really?" I gasped. Wait, of course they weren't. Vampires weren't born the way they were; the condition was contracted like a bloodborne disease.

Edward's chest seemed to vibrate, and I realized he was laughing.

"What?" I snapped.

"Oh, Bella. I don't know what came over me." He made a guttural sound as he covered his mouth with his hand as if trying to iron a smile off his face.

I frowned, confused, realization slowly dawning over me as my face blazed, hot with anger. "Right . . . you're making fun of me. Obviously Carlisle never met Darwin."

He shook his head, at least having the decency to look ashamed, his head dipping slightly as if in submission.

"You're an asshole. Just because I'm not a century-old vampire doesn't mean I'm stupid."

"I'm not sure why I did that." He reached for my hand, but I crossed my arms over my chest. "Being with you makes me feel giddy, drunk even."

"Evolution favours survival," I challenged, not allowing myself to be swayed by his mesmeric eyes. "Would you say you need sex to survive?"

The grin froze on his face and then puckered ever so slightly. "I could survive without it."

"That's good because I'm not fucking you ever again." I glared, digging my fingers into my ribs to stop myself from reaching for him. An agitated energy settled in my groin, my anger bubbling over into an odd mix of mirth and lust. He knew I wasn't serious; I could tell by the cocky half-grin that spread over his face as he gazed at me perceptively.

"You don't want to _fuck_ me?" He spoke the word with an unfaltering articulation, and I made a strangled, high-pitched sound in reply.

"No," I lied, averting my eyes.

He leaned forward, capturing my chin in his hand and angling my head so I was forced to make eye contact. "Are you sure, love? Your body is telling me a different story than your lips. There's saliva collecting in the corner of your mouth, and your pupils have dilated by a millimeter in diameter. That alone indicates you're amenable to sex. Do you want to fuck me, my love?"

"W-Why are you able t-to say . . . that word so easily now?" I stuttered.

"Because I see what it does to you when I do." He ran his hand over my shoulder and down my arm.

"Do you . . . want to fuck me?"

"Touch me, Bella," he pleaded, bringing my hand to his thigh and stopping just short of his crotch. "Feel how much I want to fuck you."

Before he could say another word, I pressed my mouth to his neck and whispered, "Say fuck again." I felt drunk. Drunk with power and lust, knowing the effect I had over his body, the way his cock became hard merely by my proximity. Of course, I was subject to the same weaknesses, my body aching quite literally for him to fill me. "Say it, please? Tell me you want to fuck me."

"I want you," he said against my skin, panting even though he didn't require oxygen.

"I want you too." My nipples were so hard they nearly ached, and I arched, closing my eyes and silently begging for him to touch me. He acquiesced, coaxing a gasp from me as he ran his fingers over my breasts, lightly teasing me. His tongue sought out the valley between them as he continued to pant like he couldn't draw in enough air. "Why are you breathing if you don't need to?"

"I'm tasting you," he explained, his voice husky and his eyes wide with an unfathomable innocence. "I can draw your flavour onto my tongue simply by breathing you in."

"Like a snake," I mused. It should have disgusted me, but of course, nothing about him seemed to repel me. Sure, somewhere in the back of my mind logic flailed, beating its fists ineffectually against my possessed mind. But as his fingers grazed my nipples, I drew my tongue along the column of his neck, breathing and trying to taste his sent as he did mine. "Say fuck," I urged again.

"Fuck." His voice quavered.

"Louder," I groaned. "Tell me what you want to do to me." A force beyond my comprehension had taken over my senses, and I tore at his shirt, sending buttons flying in every direction. His chest heaved, air filling and expanding his lungs. I wanted to question him again about his respiration but instead bit a nipple.

"I want you . . . I want to f-fuck you . . . that feels so good. You can't imagine . . . what are you doing to me, love?" His strange eyes rolled back, his lids closing as he fell back onto the bed, taking me with him.

A growl, primal and base, tore through my throat; I kissed the hollow beneath his ribs, his navel, the light patch of hair that sprouted just above his belt. "I don't know," I confessed. A deep-seated imperative was at the helm now and I at its mercy.

"Being with you . . . it's better than anything I've ever known. I can't even imagine how things will change after we're properly mated." He pulled my earlobe into his mouth, his hands caressing my lower back. If he felt my muscles stiffen he didn't comment on it.

Properly mated?

"What do you-" His kiss cut off my question. Icy fingers of fear bit at my spine. I'd thought professing our love for one another meant we were mates? I shook my head, parting my lips to speak, but his tongue found its way back into my mouth. He hands flattened against my ass, pushing me into his erection.

"Take these off," he demanded, hooking his fingers under my pants and into my underwear.

Vaguely aware I still had questions that needed answers, I lifted my hips off his and allowed him to tug the elastic away from my skin. My legs trembled as I shimmied out of my jeans, feeling him rip at my panties, effectively shredding them to ribbons, bits of cotton falling around us like confetti.

Lust won; it always did.

My fingers didn't tremble as I released the buckle of his belt. Saliva pooled in my mouth - the Pavlovian reaction that betrayed my lust to Edward - and I eased his zipper down carefully, knowing full well there was no chance of the silver teeth snagging his impenetrable skin.

"I want you in my mouth." I grabbed the base of his dick and pumped his length, leaning forward to kiss its head.

"No." He pushed me flat on my back, making me dizzy. "It's not right."

I smiled. "It's fine, Edward. I want to."

"You're my mate. I won't let you act like my whore."

"There's so much wrong with what you just said . . . I don't even know where to begin." It irked me to no end, the implication I was slutty because I wanted to please him. I knew he didn't intend it that way so I tried not let it hurt my feelings.

"Bella," he said reverently, his voice like rich velvet. "Have I not made my intentions clear?"

I shook my head once and then nodded. "I'm not certain." My eyes fixated on the scraps of fabric and buttons that now littered the bed, and my mind wandered as it tended to do. It occurred to me that I really needed to buy panties, and also that I was still bleeding a bit . . . but I guessed that didn't matter - the blood. My girly bits felt slick as he nudged me open, holding the tip of his dick at my entrance. I bit my lip, quelling the embarrassing noises and words that threatened to spill from my mouth.

"I want you to be mine." He let out a quiet grunt as he urged himself forward, closing his eyes and rumbling out a low groan when he was finally seated fully inside. I gazed down at where we were attached, marvelling at the sight; not an inch of him was left exposed.

"I _am _yours," I managed to squeak in a terribly unsexy voice.

He drew his hips back, unsheathing his length in a maddeningly slow pull only to push back into me with an enthusiastic force. "You can't imagine how much restraint I must employ," he murmured, punctuating his sentence with a slow kiss on my lips, his tongue dipping inside of my mouth almost beseechingly.

I couldn't think or speak.

With tentative hands, I traversed the landscape of his back, marveling at the corded muscles of his lats, cool and firm beneath my fingers. I wanted to kiss the concave dip of his lower back, but instead, I tickled his spine, finally ending my journey at his ass.

Dear god, how I loved his ass.

My fingers bit into his flesh, pushing him deeper into me. In pure awe, I appreciated at every inch of him as we made love - his body of stone still somehow yielding to my touch. His muscles rolled under my palms, and I nipped gently at his shoulder, muffling a surprised cry as a strange and wonderful heat coiled in my abdomen.

"Fuck!" I screamed.

"Did I hurt you?" Edward asked, his eyes wide and alarmed.

I shook my head and dug my heel into his butt. "Don't you dare fucking stop!"

He groaned and pressed on, abandoning the slow and careful rhythm for a quick and uneven one. I drew my hips back with each retraction, meeting every thrust with one of my own until we found a frenzied pace.

I fucked him like I'd done this thousands of times before . . . at least, it felt that way; we'd only actually done it once. Some sort of delicious biological imperative took possession of my hips, and we moved together as one, giving and taking pleasure.

Finally, we were evenly matched.

This notion tore through me in the same moment that every muscle in my body seemed to clench and release, save for the constant palpitation deep inside where we were intimately joined.

"Yes!" Edward called joyously, stilling while the strangest sensations ebbed within my abdomen, so intense it almost hurt.

And then I exploded into a million pieces - no, not really, but it felt like that.

_This is an orgasm_, my inner science geek marvelled, urging me to take note of whether or not I could actually feel my uterus contract. I giggled with a maniacal excitement.

"I love you," Edward whispered and kissed my nose.

I fought to catch my breath while he stared at me, a smug grin plastered across his face.

"Was it your first orgasm?"

I shook my head, still trying to come back down to earth. "I'm not certain. It's definitely the first one that felt like that!"

"It will only get better," he vowed, bringing my hand to his mouth, his tongue darting out to taste my wrist. "Especially after we're mated."

"Yeah, you said that before. What did you mean?" I sat up and stretched before wrapping my arms around his neck with a little trepidation. "Aren't we mates?"

"Yes, of course, but I'd like to have a proper wedding."

I wrinkled my nose in disgust. "I'm not really a white dress kind of girl."

"We don't need the ceremony if it makes you uncomfortable . . . although my mother will be disappointed. She begged me to let her throw a proper wedding before I changed you."

"Changed?" The cold fear I felt earlier finally took shape in my mind. Edward smiled, light glistening off his teeth. My heart pounded, and my stomach threatened to erupt in my throat. "Into a vampire," I choked.

"Of course," he said simply. "Vampires mate for eternity."

A/N - I apologize like a thousand times for the delay in posting this chapter. My other story is almost complete so updates will come faster next month. I'm also working on original fiction and an outtake of Shadow for Fandom For LLS. The outtake is an Edward POV lemon so make sure to donate for a copy of the compilation! Reviews make underthebedward a horny tallywag. 


	15. Bargaining

**A/N - Um, hi! Are you still reading? You might want to go back a chapter or two at this point because I suck. Sorry it's been so long. Beta'd by mac and perrymaxed (Perry is posting her first fic today so check it out! I've pre-read it). **

Tossed and torn, I flew over roiling waves, fighting against a tide of oblivion, but the current was so strong. My name echoed through the air as I gasped, water and salt burning my throat. My fingers ached, clutching the slippery rubber of the raft I lay on, prone.

"I'm bleeding."

"You're not," a voice soothed me.

Rolling, rolling, rolling . . . I couldn't stop the spinning, couldn't focus my vision onto a solid point on the horizon. If I could just focus on land, I could remember how I got here.

_Seagulls go out to sea to die._

Someone wanted to kill me. Oh, God . . .

I rolled over, the tempest beneath me transforming into a bed, the lifeboat into Edward. I lowered my mouth onto his cock, and he called me a whore, cupping the base of my head in his hand. "Suck it," he laughed, holding me down. My throat still burned, only the ocean water became cold semen, filling my lungs as I chocked back a scream.

"Now you're like me."

I woke up vomiting bile.

xxxx

"Please, Bella? I can't stand it. Please stop."

Edward's eyes made me think of pomegranate: liquid, red, and sweet, with yellow flecks catching the light, transforming ruby into gold. His eyes were so beautiful, even though they were one of the most inhuman things about him. And even as I sat in front of him watching his face crumble into a pained grimace as I screamed, I still assessed his beauty.

After the reality of his proclamation set in, I lost consciousness, only to wake up mid-scream.

He intended to change me into a monster.

I screamed for several minutes until I couldn't make another sound, and he covered his ears with his hands, slithering away on his stomach and nearly falling off the bed.

"Please stop . . . the noise, Bella . . . I can't take it."

Panic pixelated my vision into points of light set against grainy black dots - I'd suffered a concussion once when I was about eight, and it produced a similar effect - and I backed away from him, covering my face and neck with my hands.

"No!" My blood boiled, rage and fear setting my stomach ablaze. Somewhere in the back of my throat bile, like acid, rose and threatened to erupt again.

"Calm down, love." Edward's eyes moved quickly as if in they remained open in the midst of REM, darting from me to the ceiling to the door and back again in the most horrifying circuit. I wanted to ask him to stop but couldn't yet find my words.

"Noooo!" My protest was more of a unintelligible wail.

"No?" His eyeballs stopped knocking about his head like loose marbles, and he reached for my hand, holding me still as I attempted to pull away. "You're frightening me, Bella. What happened?"

"You want to kill me."

"No! I only want to protect you." His hands flew into his hair, and he pulled with a violent frustration, twisting his snagged locks into points at his temples . . . like devil horns.

"I won't . . ." I managed hoarsely. "You said you wouldn't hurt me." My head spun. We'd had this conversation before.

We'd spoken in circles since we first met, spinning, spinning, still spinning. I was so tangled up in him I'd lost the ability to truly fear him. And now I was going to die.

"Never . . . I'd never hurt you. Please don't start screaming again . . . let's talk." His hand hovered above my wrist, seemingly uncertain whether to land. And God help me: he was the very source of my terror, but I craved his touch. My hand formed a fist around his fingers.

"I don't want to die," I proclaimed, closing my eyes to concentrate on the matter at hand - the very small matter of haggling for my life. I thought we were past this, but clearly, I was an imbecile.

"No one will kill you-"

"On this, I'm unmovable. Killing me is a deal breaker, you understand." I opened my eyes and glared, a surge of courage straightening my spine, the instinct of survival lending me a momentary eloquence. I had to get my point across while it lasted.

"I'd never-"

"You said you plan on changing me."

"Yes," he agreed slowly, his body unmoving. "I'm afraid I don't understand your logic, Bella."

"Changing me will kill me." Tears burned in my eyes as I enunciated each word. I knew I shouldn't cry or scream as it seemed to irk him, but the wails that broke through my throat were an unstoppable force, a tsunami up against a mere breakwater wall.

"It won't," he said evenly.

"My heart w-won't beat," I blubbered, and my mind split, the analytical left side no longer communicating with the impulsive right. Shit, if I couldn't speak, I wouldn't be able to beg for my life. And I knew I had to explain myself plainly - appeal to his protective nature. "D-d-dead. I'll be dead, and I don't want to be."

"Not at all. Like a snake shedding skin, you're simply shuffling off your mortal coil." He smiled as he explained, and I nearly cackled, driven-half insane by misquoted Hamlet.

My body screamed, my brain exploding in terror, his words shrapnel. I shook my head to dislodge the terrible image of molting.

His hand trailed up my leg, and my blood burned under his cool flesh.

"Bella, please . . . it's not my intention to trivialize the sacrifice you'll have to make to be my wife. I just assumed you-"

"You assumed I agreed to die."

"To live."

"No. Not like that. I won't be like you." I sat very still, staring at his fingers as they pressed into my thigh, trembling and releasing.

"You don't want me?"

"Stop twisting my words, Edward. You know I want you."

"But you won't be my mate."

I wanted him. God, I wanted to tell him I'd do whatever it took to be with him. Fresh tears stung my eyes, falling down my cheeks and chin. "Not if it means dying."

"Alright."

"Alright?"

"Yes. I won't change you."

I wrapped my arms around his neck. "Thank you," I whispered into his ear. "I don't want to seem ungrateful for your saving my life, Edward. I love you. With all my heart."

"Stop." He shuddered, pushing me away from him.

It hurt. Literal pain shot through my arms and settled in the small of my back.

"What's wrong?" My voice was a meek wisp of air. I didn't really want to know the answer. It was all over him, the way he leaned away from me, the hunch of defeat in his shoulders, the cold shadow under his eyes . . . he wasn't mine anymore. I'd made a decision that meant he couldn't be mine.

"Please refrain from touching me." He stood and walked over the the dresser, pulling out clothes and tossing them in my direction. "And cover yourself . . . I can't stand seeing you nude."

"Edward," I said, trying to keep the warble out of my voice. "It doesn't have to be like this! I didn't reject you - I want you . . . I love you so much."

"Stop," he said flatly, turning away and casting his eyes to the floor. "We can't be mates this way. And I won't force you to be like me if it sickens you so much. Just . . . get dressed. Don't torture me with what I can't have."

"I don't understand!" I sobbed. "You can't just do this! Dictate arbitrary rules and expect me to go with it. I mean, put yourself in my shoes for a goddamn minute. What would you do?"

"Anything," he said, his voice bitter. "I would have done anything."

"Then be with me. Love me like I am."

He shook his head. "It doesn't work that way."

"Why the hell not?"

"How long do you expect to survive as a human living with vampires?"

I glared, itching to slap him. "You tell me! Only a few short days ago you vowed to keep me forever, safe in a house full of vampires. Was it your plan to turn me all along?"

"I had no plan!" he yelled, punching the bed, nearly bouncing me onto the floor. "I just wanted you."

"So you took me."

"Yes," he sneered. "So I took you. I had no idea how I could make this work, but I wanted you so much I didn't care. And now I can't take it back - I can't change what I did. And you'll never survive Rose's wrath or my mother's insanity as you are."

"Then leave them," I pleaded, placing a tentative hand over his balled fist. "I'll stay with you as I am, and we'll leave together."

"Bella," he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as if in pain. "I'd do it. I'd leave in a second if I could. Carlisle would never allow it. You can't fathom how tightly I am bound to him as my sire."

"But doesn't Carlisle want you to be happy?"

"He does. There's no way he'd permit us to be married while you remain human, though."

"Why?"

"Because one day you'll die," he said, the bald truth evident in his face. "And I'll be forced to keep existing without you." A cold smile twisted his face. "Put yourself in _my _shoes for a minute, Bella. Imagine eternity with a dead mate."

A tiny cry strangled in my throat. I dropped his hand and stared into my lap, denying the ice that froze up my spine and splintered into the base of my skull. Because I couldn't allow myself to imagine it. My mind couldn't comprehend infinity as it was, but to fathom an empty existence perched on the eye of a needle . . . a slow bleed that would never cease.

Me . . . alone and forever in mourning for Edward.

I couldn't.

"I'm . . ." I was what? I settled on, "Sorry."

"You're sorry?"

"Couldn't you move on?"

He made a sound like broken bells - a bitter laugh. "No. We don't move on when our mate dies. We persist in an endless Hell."

"Oh," I said. "And now? Will you be able to move on now?" Because I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to.

He shook his head. "I don't know. There's no set protocol I'm aware of for being rejected. I suppose Carlisle will help me through it."

"Will you go back to fucking Rosalie? Wait, don't answer that. I don't know why I asked . . . I have no right."

His eyes shone, but I didn't notice any tears. Maybe he couldn't cry. "I don't want to fornicate with anyone." He swallowed and shook his head. "It makes me sick to think of being inside someone other than you."

"I'm sorry." I threw myself against his chest, sighing in profound relief as his arms wrapped around me. "I want you so much . . . this is killing me."

"Quite literally." He rubbed my lower back, soothing the ache in my bones. "Every breath you take brings you closer to death."

"That's rather morbid."

"It's the truth. You're going to die, and you won't let me save you." He tightened his hold on me, lowering his face into my hair. "Okay."

"Okay? Okay what?"

"I can't leave you."

"You can't?" My voice sounded so hopeful. He smiled at whatever expression he saw on my face, his finger tracing a tear down my cheek.

"It doesn't seem possible."

"What about the eternity after I'm gone?"

"That's my sacrifice." He pressed his hips against mine. "Will you let me make love to you now?"

"Yes." I pulled him over me, wrapping my legs around his hips. "But, wait . . . I mean, I can't just pretend everything is okay now that I know what being with me will cost you."

He sighed, pressing his erection into my pelvis. "You won't let me change you. I don't think I can leave you. That leaves only the third option."

I ran my hands down his back, pressing my palms into his ass until he lowered himself between my legs. "Inside, please. Now."

He groaned and pushed, and I accommodated him easily. "I'll gladly face Hell for this taste of Heaven."

I didn't mean to, but I started crying again.

"Did I hurt you?" He stopped moving, cupping my chin in his hand and angling my face to kiss me.

"No, I- I'm fine. I'm just really scared of losing you."

"You won't," he promised. "I'll stay with you throughout your life."

"And mourn me forever after?"

He nodded. "May I continue making love to you?"

I sobbed into his shoulder, rotating my hips until he was fully seated inside of me. "Don't stop," I whispered, losing myself in the sensation of our connection.

Being with him felt like a dream. Only I wasn't sure if I'd ever be able to wake up again.

**A/N - so I know it's been forever. I'm sorry! I've been working a lot and writing for various fandom causes. I'm writing for Mostly A Lurker's fundraiser - an alternate ending of Stigmata Tomato called "Kill Phil." I just donated an outtake of Shadow (EPOV) to fandom4LLS, and I'm writing a collaborative multi-chapter with fictionfreak95 for Fandom for Texas Wildfire Relief. I'm also participating in NaNo this year. **

**Phone buzzes are so appreciated . . . you have no idea how much!**


	16. Edward POV outtake

**A/N This is the Outtake for the Fandom4LLS compilation, Edward's POV**

**Beta'd by Mac214 and Perrymaxed. Pre-read by katinki, PiedPiperOSIB, and obsmama**

**Enjoy!**

Nature is not harmonious; it is discordant.

After Carlisle changed me, it wasn't the hunger that was so foreign to me; I'd been hungry before. I'd lusted and coveted - the desire for blood wasn't really very much different than any other mortal sin.

It was the noise that made me half mad - the constant ebb and flow of sound that persisted beyond the mortal spectrum of sound, like koi swimming beneath the surface of a frozen lake.

I'd spent the last eighty or so years trying to drown out the terrible cacophony, avoiding public places, and thus, delivering myself from the temptation of blood while seeking solitude, quiet.

But Bella wanted a hot caffeinated beverage, and I'd vowed to spend the rest of my life supplying her with whatever she needed.

Starbucks was austere and green, filled with people and their hateful sounds.

"What can I get you?" the small, human girl behind the counter asked, a smile stretching her mouth too wide. The skin of her lip cracked, opening a freshly-sealed sore, a nanoliter of fluid seeping through. She pressed her finger to her mouth and then wiped it on her green apron.

Her blood smelled rancid, tinged with puss.

"Coffee," I told her, reciting Bella's simple order. I had an inkling it wasn't really what she wanted, but maybe she was afraid I'd misinterpret her request again . . . like the rabbit incident. Certainly a fancier, Italian beverage, perhaps with chocolate, would be more to her liking.

"Uh, you're gonna have'ta be more specific."

"How do you mean?" I kept my voice pleasant, though my thoughts were acrid and panicked.

"Light or dark roast?"

"Light."

"What do you want in it?"

"Nothing . . . something chocolate, perhaps?" The pulse of the patron behind me quickened, I surmised due to impatience rather than fear. I, too, was anxious to leave. I'd grown so accustomed to Bella's warmth, I almost felt cold. "I'd like someone else to pour it, please."

"Say what?"

"You have herpes labialis. I don't want the active virus on my mate-er, girlfriend's cup."

"Get the fuck out of here!" she screamed.

xxxx

My penis felt warm in my hand, still retaining Bella's heat from our coupling. I could see her outline through the window, hunched over the bed as if in prayer.

I wanted to bend myself over her, whisper blasphemous, lustful things into her ear while trespassing inside her flesh . . . to be consumed by her, the antithesis of my undead life. My body, my immortality, and even my soul, should it still linger, were hers now.

My hand tightened around the base of my erection, pulling and twisting, pushing and stroking. Shameful and wanting, I watched her move about the motel room, nearly coming undone at the mere sight of her - the graceful angle of her neck, the curve of her bosom in profile.

_Take me. Own me. I'm yours!_

Her sounds were different, beautiful. Her hummingbird heart beating beneath her chest, pumping blood throughout her vascular system, was a concerto, my body so attuned to it I could hear it even inside my automobile. Shamelessly, I pumped myself in time with her blood, imagining being cradled in the pillow of her smooth thighs, my hip against her throbbing femoral artery.

Pressing forward into her heat, her engorged labia would spread for me, searing my length. I'd be so gentle at first, savouring each pass of intimate friction between us.

But it wouldn't be enough. I couldn't bury myself far enough inside her. Even frozen, my body burned for her.

Like blood from the sweetest vessel, she drew passion from me. She didn't know it, thank heavens for that. I squeezed myself to her siren song, exploding mercifully with her name on my tongue, her wide, paradoxically wise eyes staring into my own, stripping me bare.

Shame flooded me. I removed my sock and wiped the ejaculate off my hands and genitals, bowing my head in supplication and begging Christ for forgiveness. It was only one of a litany of sins I'd committed, but in this moment, it was the one that mattered most.

xxxx

I think I knew from the first time our eyes met that she was meant for me. I hadn't understood it at the time as I held her gaze, her eyes astonished and terrified, the taste of blood still fresh on my lips from killing her assailant. I never really considered myself a monster. Certainly there were frightening facets to my personality, but Carlisle had trained us well to keep in control of the beast that lived within. There was no reason to be uncivilized, he insisted.

As I stood in front of the odd, tiny girl, my father's words echoed in my mind, reminding me to be cordial. I offered her my hand like a proper gentleman, but her eyes rolled back, lids fluttering as she lost consciousness.

Poor, lovely thing. I'd have to kill her, of course; we couldn't leave any witnesses.

So slowly, I lowered my face to her neck, brushing her soft hair away from the juicy carotid artery. My jaw widened, not quite unhinging, but no venom flowed over my tongue at all. How strange. My fangs weren't even cooperating. It would be difficult to feed without them, and I didn't want to simply slice open her neck without the aid of my venom to numb her.

I wasn't sadistic.

"Daddy," she moaned softly in her delirium. "I'm scared."

"You're okay," I soothed, caressing her flushed cheek while an inexplicable yearning settled into my stomach. "You're fine." She wasn't the least bit fine. "Are you able to walk?"

Why was I speaking to her?

Her eyes opened, and the strangest thing happened: all the noise stopped. I lost myself for an infinite moment, staring into the boundless depths of her irises. Warm and golden, I felt any impulse to feed become snuffed like a flame, while conversely, I ignited.

Her voice was lovely, even as she sobbed out a broken wail. "Am I . . . did I . . ."

"You're perfectly fine. The gunman is . . . gone. I'll keep you safe."

So easily she crawled into my arms and fell asleep like an infant, and an overwhelming need to protect and care for her settled deep into my marrow.

"No one will ever hurt you."

I wanted to _keep _her. Before I could allow the implications of that epiphany to settle, I lunged through the broken window, cradling the young girl in my arms.

Warmth from her frail body seeped into mine as I negotiated a clear path through the trees surrounding the town, running almost joyously. Her head bobbed against my shoulder, a delicate shudder wracking her body.

"Cold," she moaned, grinding her teeth spasmodically.

"I'll find you warmth, beautiful one." Before I fully understood my intentions, I realized we were headed for my home.

"Cold," she repeated, burying her face into my clavicle, hot flesh making contact with the skin under my throat. A thrill shot through me, my silent chest tightening and burning.

She was an bolt of electricity, and I, Frankenstein's monster.

xxxx

Bella's eyes flashed, dark and demanding, and my mind became a dervish, every thought oscillating between tender and fantastical. I wanted to kiss and hold her, but my bloodless body boiled and yearned for her to perform blasphemous acts of fornication with me. Her lips puckered and pouted as she spoke, and all I could imagine was fellatio.

For the first time in my undead life, I was dizzy.

"Evolution favours survival," she challenged, her voice soft even though I was certain she meant it to be angry. "Would you say you need sex to survive?"

"I could survive without it." Not anymore, I couldn't. She'd be horrified if she knew how much I thought about coupling with her.

"That's good because I'm not fucking you ever again." She glared, digging her fingers into her ribs for reasons I'd never comprehend. I was about to beg her to stop harming herself when the distinct flavour of her arousal wafted over my tongue. I widened my nostrils to draw in a more concentrated sample of the air, the sweet and musky taste coating my nose and throat.

Her angry glare faltered as a grin spread over my face.

She wanted me.

She wanted me to say dirty words to her.

It was a good thing I could no longer blush.

"You don't want to _fuck_ me?" I asked nonchalantly, emphasising the word that seemed to make her squirm.

"No," she said, averting her eyes.

That wouldn't do at all. Her eyes owned me, just as her heart did; I wanted her to show me both.

I moved slowly, reaching for her so I could angle her chin upwards. Her beautiful face should never be cast in shadow. A little gasp, one she likely didn't know she made, escaped her throat, and her lips parted. Before I could lose myself completely in her strange, compelling eyes, I spoke. "Are you sure, love? Your body is telling me a different story than your lips. There's saliva collecting in the corner of your mouth, and your pupils have dilated by a millimeter in diameter. That alone indicates you're amenable to sex. Do you want to fuck me, my love?"

"W-Why are you able t-to say . . . that word so easily now?" she stuttered.

"Because I see what it does to you when I do." A trail of goose bumps chased my hand as I ran it over the sheer ivory perfection of her skin, from her shoulder to her elbow. If my body had the ability to act in kind, it would have.

"Do you . . . want to fuck me?" she inquired demurely despite the passion evident in her eyes. Much less the lamb now, my beautiful mate became the lion I knew she had in her.

"Touch me, Bella," I pleaded, bringing her hand to my thigh, shuddering as the heat of her fingers blazed against my skin, flames licking upwards. She hadn't touched the evidence of my arousal yet, but her heat surrounded it. "Feel how much I want to fuck you."

Finally, finally, her hand held me firmly, taking possession of what I was so desperate to offer. I nearly cried out in triumph, her fingers stroking me, coaxing a hot pulsing sensation in my groin, a wonderful ache I needed to press into her most intimate place to quell.

"Say fuck again." Her voice became rough, eyes all black pupil with a golden brown circumference. "Say it, please? Tell me you want to fuck me."

"I want you . . ." Father in Heaven, I couldn't say it again. Our coupling was not fornication, and while our union would never be blessed by the Church, she was my wife - the woman I planned to spend the rest of eternity worshipping.

"I want you too." She arched beneath me, closing her eyes and offering her body. Her delicate breasts bouncing as her torso lifted off the bed, her puckered nipples begging for my touch. When I could bear it no longer, I buried my face in her bosom, kissing and licking her skin and bucking my hips into the bed at every little moan of pleasure she made.

Gasping for breath, I couldn't draw enough of her scent into my throat to satisfy my hunger for her.

"Why are you breathing if you don't need to?"

"I'm tasting you," I explained, so pleased she noticed. "I can draw your flavour onto my tongue simply by breathing you in."

"Like a snake?"

I nodded, rubbing my thumbs over her nipples as it seemed to make her writhe with each pass. But I simply could not resist the flavour of her skin, particularly near her carotid artery. I licked and kissed the luscious pulse point, careful to keep my fangs sheathed.

"Say fuck," she demanded, and of course, I acquiesced.

"Louder," she demanded. "Tell me what you want to do to me." Her hands formed fists at my shirtsleeves, and she wailed out a frustrated sound, pulling at the unyielding cotton. In a discreet motion, I flexed and tugged at the front closures, watching Bella's eyes gleam in triumph before she lowered her face to my chest, kissing and nipping at my skin.

Her lips soft and reverent, leaving a trail of wet, hot bliss over me like the most precious gift.

"I want you . . . I want to f-fuck you . . . that feels so good." I couldn't articulate my feelings. For the first time I was rendered dumb by sensual pleasure, helpless. "You can't imagine . . . what are you doing to me, love?" I couldn't pull her close enough.

My kitten growled like a lion as our flesh pressed together, my own body feeling impossibly feverish with her on top of me.

"I don't know," she replied, looking down suddenly as if surprised to be nude.

And I felt so helpless on my back, particularly when her sweet mouth began a painfully slow journey from my chest to my navel.

"Being with you . . . it's better than anything I've ever known. I can't even imagine how things will change after we're properly mated." I pulled her up my torso so I could kiss her face.

She gasped, drawing in air to speak, but I cut her off with my tongue, a sudden deluge of lust flooding my groin. The ache was too much. I pressed my fingers into her buttocks, pushing her over my length. "Take these off," I growled, forgetting to act human for her. The monster wanted to tear through her pants with my teeth, but fortunately, I was still somewhat governed by my wits. As it was, her breath caught in her throat as the room filled with the lush, ripping sound of her clothes shredding in my hands.

Her hands incinerated the cold metal of my zipper as she parted the teeth with a painstaking slowness, her hair falling into my lap.

_Fellatio!_

No! I wouldn't defile her that way.

As if she could read my mind, she whispered, "I want you in my mouth."

"No," I nearly howled, flipping us over. "It's not right."

"It's fine, Edward. I want to."

I couldn't allow myself to think about it, not even as she argued, making light of what such an act implied of her. On this matter, I wouldn't allow myself to be moved.

In an effort to distract her, I seated myself firmly between her thighs, nudging her labia apart with the tip of my erection.

She squeaked out a little sigh, moaning the word "cock," and I nearly came undone.

_Cock_, my mind screamed. _Pussy!_

"I want you to be mine," I told her in case she had any doubt, pressing forward slowly until I was fully sheathed, her flesh squeezing ever inch of me. I drowned in her heat, the sweet smell of her blood.

"I _am _yours."

And then I lost myself completely to her, pulling and pushing as slowly as I could bear, rotating my hips, crying out terrible grunts and groans like a wild dog. To my astonishment, she held me tighter, the louder I vocalized.

I almost felt human.

Her hands ran the length of my back, flattening and pushing into my buttocks as if she wanted to fuse our pelvises together. Of course, I had to draw back so I could feel the sensation again, the desperation of her hands pushing into my behind.

Dear Holy Christ, how I loved this woman.

"Fuck!" she screamed, her vagina squeezing me in its tubular vice, fluttering and pulsing.

"Yes!" I replied. She'd finally found her pleasure, and in her, I'd found the only true happiness I'd ever known.

Our lives were inexorably tied together now. I couldn't wait to marry her, to bind her to me as my mate by blood.

I'd miss the warmth, though. Truly, I'd mourn it.

**A/N – NaNo is over which means I'll be working on my fics again. The next chapter of Shadow is written, but I'm not happy with it yet. As soon as I can make it better, it will be posted. Thank you so much for reading my fics and for all of your kind words. **


	17. Fortytwo

**A/N - Thanks to mac and katinki for making this better. Thanks to you for not flouncing even though I'm ridiculously slow at updating. I love you all - every single random stranger who reads this story! I'd make out with you if I could. But I have a cold so you'd probably not like it. Uh... anyhoo...**

Recap from the last chapter (before the outtake):

_"I'm sorry." I threw myself against his chest, sighing in profound relief as his arms wrapped around me. "I want you so much . . . this is killing me."_

_"Quite literally." He rubbed my lower back, soothing the ache in my bones. "Every breath you take brings you closer to death."_

_"That's rather morbid."_

_"It's the truth. You're going to die, and you won't let me save you." He tightened his hold on me, lowering his face into my hair. "Okay."_

_"Okay? Okay what?"_

_"I can't leave you."_

_"You can't?" My voice sounded so hopeful. He smiled at whatever expression he saw on my face, his finger tracing a tear down my cheek._

_"It doesn't seem possible."_

_"What about the eternity after I'm gone?"_

_"That's my sacrifice." He pressed his hips against mine. "Will you let me make love to you now?"_

_"Yes." I pulled him over me, wrapping my legs around his hips. "But, wait . . . I mean, I can't just pretend everything is okay now that I know what being with me will cost you."_

_He sighed, pressing his erection into my pelvis. "You won't let me change you. I don't think I can leave you. That leaves only the third option."_

_I ran my hands down his back, pressing my palms into his ass until he lowered himself between my legs. "Inside, please. Now."_

_He groaned and pushed, and I accommodated him easily. "I'll gladly face Hell for this taste of Heaven."_

_I didn't mean to, but I started crying again._

_"Did I hurt you?" He stopped moving, cupping my chin in his hand and angling my face to kiss me._

_"No, I- I'm fine. I'm just really scared of losing you."_

_"You won't," he promised. "I'll stay with you throughout your life."_

_"And mourn me forever after?"_

_He nodded. "May I continue making love to you?"_

_I sobbed into his shoulder, rotating my hips until he was fully seated inside of me. "Don't stop," I whispered, losing myself in the sensation of our connection._

_Being with him felt like a dream. Only I wasn't sure if I'd ever be able to wake up again._

xxxxx

My pussy contracted around Edward's cock, and I bit back a cry, concentrating on an ache in the knotted muscles in my back to stave off any pleasure.

I didn't want to come. My reactions couldn't be trusted. And yes, I recognized that, once again, my inner ramblings sounded psychotic. But people suffering from psychotic breaks were almost never aware of it.

And I still struggled to stay aware of myself.

My body itched to scream as he thrust into me, his hands gentle in contrast to his enthusiastic hips. And fuck me, it all felt so good - his hands, his mouth, his dick . . .

Somehow I had to silence all this noise in my head.

Fuck, I needed to let go, but if I did I might howl, and he would know it wasn't entirely from orgasm. My emotions felt so raw, my impulses primal; I'd relinquished myself to a baser form.

So afraid of every decision and its repercussions.

"Did you reach your climax?" Edward's voice darkened, his polite tenor growling into a baritone.

"Don't speak." My hands bit into his back. I didn't want to think, to allow the heavy sensation that sat in my gut to rise to my chest.

He grunted and came, holding my hips still while his cock pulsed deep inside of me. I thrashed back against the pillow and cried out, approximating the sounds of pleasure when really, my body was numb, save for a dull pain between my legs, and my mind paralyzed by too much introspection.

As he withdrew I pulled away too, doing my best to ignore the burning ache inside me. I wiped his spilled seed from my inner thigh with the bed sheets and avoided eye contact. If he had his druthers I'm certain we'd be making love again, but something he must have noticed in my face made him sit up.

"Do you feel ill?" He ran his hand across my cheek, leaving a trail of my perspiration in its wake. "You're so warm."

How _did _I feel? A rush of conflicting emotions shot through me, shocking me like a bolt of electricity.

This was so wrong.

"Bella." He frowned. "How do you feel?"

I shook my head and tried to turn away, so I could hide my face.

"I can't reconcile what I'm feeling. Please stop staring."

His eyes widened, and then he looked away, his hand landing in my lap. "You can tell me anything. Please don't be afraid to speak your mind," he said, his thumb caressing my belly. He probably meant to soothe me with the touch, but pressure built in my torso, creeping slowly into my lungs. I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing.

"Panic attack," I whispered. This indecision was incapacitating; my limbs felt weighed down as if by anesthetic.

"What can I do to help? Please, Bella, you're frightening me."

I counted out each breath until my respiration slowed, all the while, Edward kept his eyes averted as I'd requested.

"I feel . . ." _voracious, petrified, needy . . . _"fine."

"Bella," he rebuked. "You insult me when you lie so blatantly." His eyes snapped back to mine; despite his sharp words, his tone belied no anger.

"I'm sorry. Really, I'll be fine. Just . . . can we go out? I need to get out." Sweat that had beaded on my along my hairline began to fall down my face, burning my eyes with salt. He pressed his hand against my forehead, and I didn't draw away, I leaned into the coolness of his skin.

"As soon as the sun begins to set. Will you be able to stay here with me until then?"

Was he giving me a choice?

"Yeah, well . . . fuck." My brain scrambled, starving for oxygen as the air around me grew toxic. I took a deep breath but choked before my lungs could inflate. "What will we do?" _Oh, god, what are we going to do?_

"Today, you mean? Whatever you wish."

"Please." I swung my legs over the side of the bed and watched them drop like lead. "How long until we can leave?"

"It's not quite overcast. Just a few more hours, love, and we'll go-"

"I'm getting dressed . . . I can't just stay in this room and fuck you for the rest of my life," I spat, recognizing the irrationality of my sudden anger. Edward was trying so hard, and he didn't deserve my ire . . . not really.

"Very well." He handed me my shirt, his fingers lingering on mine for an infinite second. I shuddered.

"I'm so sorry. I think I'm just going a bit stir crazy." He offered me his hand, and I took it, falling forward into his arms. "I love you. I do - I don't mean to act like such a bitch."

"It's fine," he mumbled, his lips against the top of my head. "And you're not a . . . bitch. We'll leave soon - two hours, perhaps three. We'll take a drive and get you something to eat."

"And what will we do until then?" I forced a smile.

He gave me a tight smile in return, his hand dropped from lower back to my ass.

"I think I need a bit of a break . . . from that," I said, reaching behind me to move his hand.

"From what?"

"Sex!"

He laughed. "Do you think I have a one track mind?"

"Yes."

He stepped away, kissing my face one more time before unzipping his suitcase. Lifting the top back, he took out a box that looked like a board game.

"I'm able to think about many things at once," he said, opening the lid and removing a chess board.

"So you're not thinking about fucking me?"

"Oh, I am. I'm also thinking of several other things at the same time." He grinned, not showing any teeth. It looked unnatural to him, and I guessed he still felt ashamed about his lack of molars. How strange.

My fingers felt stiff as I buttoned my shirt. "I'm not very good at this game," I warned.

"You have one advantage over me no one else has." He set up the board faster than I could register, white and black pieces streaking grey over the playing surface. "Would you prefer to play white or black?"

"I'd prefer to play nothing at all, but since you seem so enthusiastic . . ."

"Come on, Bella. Be a sport."

"Black. You take the opening move." It didn't really matter; I was going to lose anyway.

"Very well." He moved the king's pawn two spaces, and I bit my lip, my fingers hovering over my bishop.

"What advantage could I possibly have over you?"

"I have a very hard time reading you." He smiled again, this time showing his front teeth. They looked wet, glistening at the sharp tips.

"So?" I grumbled.

"Most people are very predictable. You, however . . . I'm never certain what your next move is going to be."

"Are we still talking about chess?" I asked, and he shrugged.

I left my king open for him to take.

"See, I wasn't expecting that." He frowned. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I don't want to play this stupid game." I pushed the board over, sending pieces flying. "I just want to get out of this fucking room!"

"Bella?"

Hot tears ran down my face as a realization took form in my mind - one I wasn't ready to admit to myself yet. "I love you," I told him because I didn't have anything else I could articulate properly at the moment, and I didn't want to lie.

"Shall we head into town?" he asked, his voice tired.

I nodded, pressing my back against the door of the room.

xxxx

He drove, and I couldn't stop myself from watching him - the way the light bounced on his skin and refracted like he was an intricately cut diamond. I'd never get used to it. And for the life of me, I had no clue why he stared back with awe in his eyes, like I was something incredible to look at. I wasn't.

"What are you thinking?" He scrunched his nose, and even though I was annoyed and anxious, I melted a little at the adorable gesture.

"You're better looking than me," I said, pulling his hand off the gear shift so I could cradle it in my lap.

He threw an incredulous look at me. "How on earth could you possibly believe that?"

"It doesn't bother me or anything, but you asked what I was thinking so I told you. If you don't want to know, don't ask."

"I always want to know what you're thinking, Bella. Even if what you're thinking is utterly ridiculous." He squeezed my hand. "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah . . . are you?"

He chuckled. "Let's worry about your appetite first. You need to keep your strength up for what I have planned."

"Okay, but don't talk to me like I'm a child." I feigned anger as my heart raced, and it occurred to me that perhaps I should be afraid, but the manner in which his eyebrow arched suggestively transformed my nerves into lust. My stomach hollowed out, and I squirmed in my seat, remembering the feel of him against me.

Okay, this kind of sexual obsession was definitely not normal.

In a quaint town just off the 101, he steered his relic of a vehicle down a dirt road spotted with dilapidated cabins and road stands. I had no clue where we were, and my general disregard for my surroundings was frankly a little frightening.

But fuck me, I couldn't concentrate on anything other than him anymore.

"Lunch time?" I heard Edward ask, but I was staring at his crotch again, so my mind went to a place I knew he wouldn't let my mouth go.

So polarized in my thoughts, I swatted away urgent warnings and doubts that tried to gnaw at my mind like relentless bugs. I was looking down the barrel of a gun - my vision was tunneled but I couldn't see at what.

"All this indecision is making me crazy, Edward. We need a plan. You can't just drag me around hoping your sister loses interest."

"I doubt she's very interested in you. In our world, you should either be my wife or..." He swallowed his words, his neck straining as if they were painful to keep down.

"Yeah. I know."

He cast his eyes to his lap, the muscles of his jaw moving if grappling with an emotion. These past few days I'd memorized the landscape of his body, and the movement around his cavum seemed to denote his mind was working overtime.

"Edward?" I asked, keeping my voice even despite the feeling of dread that lodged itself in my chest. "How many people have you killed?"

His shoulders slumped forward. "Does it matter very much to you?"

"Yeah. It does." I couldn't reconcile this gentle man from the monster I knew he was capable of being.

His phone made a buzzing sound in his pocket, but he disregarded it. "I need a moment to count."

"I thought you had perfect recollection," I countered, my voice taking on an argumentative edge.

"I do. I've never bothered to keep track, though, and I don't want to miscount. I can tell this is an important question."

I couldn't help laughing. He was concerned about accuracy? "Did you feel guilty . . . taking lives?"

"Not really. I'm very careful to be selective. And if I can't find the right candidate, I hunt animals." He pulled the car into a truckstop, and my stomach rumbled despite itself. Ancient birch trees flanked the property, casting the dirt parking lot in shadow. He steered around overgrown roots poking out of the ground and parked beside a flatbed loaded with timber.

"But . . . I don't understand, Edward. If you don't have to kill people, if you can survive on animal blood, why don't you just eat animals?"

He took my hand in his and angled my chin so I'd have to look in his eyes. "Why do you eat meat? You're not a carnivore. You can survive on vegetation, can you not?"

"Not well," I grumbled.

"Precisely. Human blood is my preference, although my diet consists mostly of animal."

"It's not the same thing!" I protested, pulling away from him. He sighed and let go of my hand.

"Is human life worth more than animal life?"

"Yes," I said without thinking.

"Why is that? Because you're human? I can assure you animals are far less malevolent than your average human."

"That's not the point!" I yelled, opening the car door and jumping out. "You can't just murder people for food! It doesn't work that way. I don't care if animals aren't as evil - human life is worth more. And yes, I get that my opinion is biased as a human and not a bunny rabbit, but I don't give a fuck. You just can't kill people!"

"Please keep your voice down," he pleaded, exiting the vehicle. "I don't intend on killing any more people."

"Why? What changed? You just implied human life is meaningless-"

"I did no such thing. I merely suggested your logic is flawed." He closed my car door before I could slam it. "And did I not just confirm I was becoming a vegetarian?" He had the audacity to smirk.

"You're infuriating. You know that, right?" I collapsed against his chest and pressed against him so I could feel his dick on my stomach. It took all of my willpower not to hump him like a dog.

He smiled and kissed my forehead, moving his pelvis so I could push myself against the bulge in his pants. "I've been told that before. And the answer to your question is forty-two."

"Huh?" Did I ask him for the meaning of life as per Douglas Adams, or was this a tangent?

"I've taken forty-two human lives. The number of animals I've killed far exceeds that. Shall I count those lives for you, too?"

I shook my head. The number wasn't as high as I'd thought. "Okay. I mean, I guess that's not so bad. Um . . . you said you were selective? How so - I mean, did you only kill people about to hurt other people?"

"Not exactly, no. I have a talent, you might say. I can sense the thoughts of higher life forms."

"Holy shit, you can read minds?" I jumped away from him like he was on fire. "Can you read mine?"

"No." He smirked. "You're a mystery to me. Your mind is blissfully silent."

"Did you just insult me?" _Because I could swear you just told me I'm a vapid idiot._

He laughed and wrapped his arms around me. "No. That didn't come out right. I meant to say you cannot be read easily. There are moments where I think I know your thoughts, but then I'm certain I've imagined it. You have a profound sense of control over your mind . . . except when you're in the, er . . . throes."

"What?" I squeaked.

"When you orgasm, Bella, your mind is very obscene. You have a very dirty vocabulary for such a nice girl."

My face felt hot. "I do not! I mean, not that I noticed."

"I love it." He breathed against my ear. "And I love you. You are my entire world. Which is why I'll never kill another person. Ever."

I had absolutely no clue how to respond to that. "Thanks."

"You are very welcome."

"Your phone's buzzing again," I whispered, cuddling against him.

"I know. I've been ignoring it."

"Why?"

"Because . . . Bella, I don't mean to upset you, but we need to go back . . . to my home."

"No!" I jumped. "Why?"

"Carlisle needs my help. It seems Rosalie has brought home a human mate of her own."

xxxx

**As per my beta: "Yay, we're going back to creepville!" My outline includes three more chapters. I hope you're still with me.**

**Fic Rec: Inappropriate Touching - it's listed in my faves. If that fic had a mouth I'd stick my tongue in it . . . although it would probably run, screaming "inappropriate touching!"**

**Also check out JaspersDestiny's Worst Story Ever Told contest. I have to collab entries in it - one with mac and one with magnolia822. All the entries are awful. Really! www (dot) fanfiction (dot) net/u/2150031/The_Worst_Story_Ever_Contest**

**Edward's phone is buzzing. Please make mine buzz too?**


	18. I've Seen it All

**A/N - I'm so fucking sorry for the delay. The voice in my head that writes this story was being a cunting whore. She's not sorry, but I am. This chapter is brought to you by the number five, a bottle of scotch, and the song "I've Seen it All." If you want to visit my head space while I wrote it, get really drunk and google "Thom Yorke With Bjork - I've Seen It All." Thank you to Nicole and Kate for making this story better.**

* * *

_You've never been to Niagara Falls?_

_I have seen water, it's water, that's all..._

_The Eiffel Tower, the Empire State?_

_My pulse was as high on my very first date!_

_Your grandson's hand as he plays with your hair?_

_To be honest, I really don't care..._

_I've seen it all, I've seen the dark_

_I've seen the brightness in one little spark._

_I've seen what I chose and I've seen what I need,_

_And that is enough, to want more would be greed._

_I've seen what I was and I know what I'll be_

_I've seen it all - there is no more to see!_

_-Bjork, I've Seen it All_

* * *

The inside of the cab felt like a rusted tomb, stale and dark. We drifted across the dark highway in an interminable silence; no lights from oncoming cars punctuated my thoughts. In the murk, my mind roamed.

"Edward?"

"Yes?"

"How can you see? I mean, it's so dark." That wasn't my question at all.

"Keen senses," he replied.

"Oh, right." My teeth chattered. I hadn't really noticed the bitter chill in the air. "Another vampire thing?"

"Yes."

"I'm cold. Does the heat work?"

"I- I'm not sure. I've never tried it." He fiddled with a knob on the console until a gust of hot air rushed out of the vent, washing across my face; thick dust clung to my lungs as I inhaled, coughing. The back of my throat becoming raw and my nose ran.

"Are you well?"

I nodded. "Just allergies . . . the dust or whatever."

He muttered something that sounded like, "So fragile."

Yeah. Indeed. I took a deep breath and wiped my nose on my sleeve.

"I have some questions, if you don't mind," I said when my voice returned.

"Of course, love. You may ask anything."

"Okay . . . you seem distracted, though."

"I'm concerned about what's happening at home, but I'm not distracted. Please speak your mind, Bella."

I nodded. "You were young when you were changed, right?"

"Yes. A few years older than you are now." He warmed his hand on the vent and squeezed my knee.

"Do you feel like you missed out on any human experiences?"

"I used to wish I had a chance to marry and have a family."

I swallowed a lump in my throat. "Used to?"

"Mortal desires fade with time. Memories from my human life feel like they happened to someone else."

"You can't have children," I spat. I didn't mean to sound callous, but my voice was tinged with a bitterness didn't understand. "Unless I'm mistaken." Esme's corkscrew hair twisted in a dark corner of my mind, as she hissed about my carrying babies. "Vampires can't reproduce sexually, right?"

"That's correct."

"You'll never be a father," I reiterated.

"No. I'll never be a father."

"Doesn't that bother you?"

"To be honest, I really don't care."

Sweat beaded on my hairline and under my arms despite the cold.

"Bella, if children are important to you, we could find a way for you to reproduce."

I nearly choked on laughter. "I don't want to _reproduce_. And I certainly don't want a half-vampire hybrid baby."

"That's not possible." He chuckled. "My sexual reproductive organs are mostly decorative."

"Was that a joke?"

"An attempt at humour, perhaps. But in truth, sex for vampires is a bonding mechanism, not procreative. It's pleasurable, but we are not driven by our lust the way humans are."

I made a snorting sound. "I'm not driven by lust."

"Of course not." His hand climbed up my thigh, his thumb grazing me between my legs. My teeth clamped together.

"It's pleasurable, certainly, but not procreative." I mimicked his formal tone. "I'm not driven by some intrinsic need to fertilize my eggs."

"Your body craves me. It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

I smacked his arm away from my crotch. "You're such an asshole."

"Yes. But I love you beyond reason." He pulled the car onto the soft shoulder, gravel crunching under tires, and somehow steered us into the thick forest. Branches scraped against the windows, but there wasn't enough light to see anything.

"I crave you more," he added, his voice taking on a softer tone. "I don't have your blatant somatic cues, but don't doubt my desire."

He clasped my hand and brought it to feel the front of his trousers.

"You're hard."

"Yes."

"We've made love more times than I can count." I laughed.

"Nine times. Not nearly enough to satiate me." He rubbed his erection using my hand. "I don't mean to be crass; however, I hope to have intercourse with you again tonight."

Hysterical giggles bubbled out of my mouth. "Are you being funny again?"

"Not at all. I'm merely expressing my desires. I'm also ensuring you don't feel ashamed about being aroused around me. I'm just as aroused." His hips lifted off the seat as I stroked him under his pants.

"Is it okay for me to change my mind? I mean, are we locked into this stalemate of a contract, or can I make my choice again?"

"Are we still talking about sex?"

"No, Edward. I'd like to reconsider your offer." A gasp caught in my throat as the truck lurched forward.

"Bella . . . are you referring to your mortality."

I chewed on my nails for a few seconds before replying. "Yeah. Is that still open for debate? I mean, you have to understand I'm really confused, but I think maybe immortality wouldn't be awful. Not if I get to spend forever with you." I frowned. "That was supposed come across more romantic, but I guess romance has never been my strong suit."

Edward made this strange whimpering sound in his throat, like a dog trying to soothe a whelp. "You've changed your mind?"

"I think so. Is that okay? I have another thousand or so questions but-"

He cut me off, pressing his lips to mine, a groan resonating from within him seeming to vibrate into my chest through his kiss.

"Is that a yes?" I asked when he pulled away from my face to steer the truck away from what I presumed was a tree.

"Oh, Bella . . . nothing would make me happier. You have no idea."

"I think I have some." I giggled.

He cut the engine and buried his head between my thighs, taking his time to remind me why no measure of time with him would ever be enough.

* * *

xxx

I'd fallen asleep. I rolled onto my side and caught sight of Edward's enthusiastic grin stretching across his face.

"You look smug," I accused.

"Happy. And very grateful we're returning home as proper mates. Carlisle and Esme will be so pleased."

"Please don't leave me alone with them? I realize that for all intents and purposes they're your parents, but they freak the shit out of me. Quite literally, in fact." My face heated.

"Bella, you're going to be perfectly fine." He reached for me, but I shook my head.

"I'm having a minor panic attack. Just . . . just leave me be for a few minutes."

He frowned, his eyes glistening in the faint light the moon shone on him like a spotlight.

"Oh god." I dropped my head between my knees to help stave off the wave of nausea that overtook me as the house came into view. "I can't go back . . . please?"

Edward put his hand on my arm, but I swatted it away. "I'm not certain of what to do." He frowned, looking at splayed fingers and tilting his head. "That . . . hurt."

"What?" I scrunched up my face, glancing back at the Victorian, two-story nightmare that lay twenty feet ahead.

"My hand. It hurt when you hit it."

I shook my head. "That's not possible."

"It's not," he agreed, curling his fingers into a fist. "I must have imagined it."

I laughed. "So vampires are capable of psychosomatic responses?"

"It's unlikely. Esme would call it psychic pain."

"Yeah, well Esme is fucking psycho, period." I grabbed his wrist and kissed his balled hand. "I'm sorry if I hurt you . . . psychically."

"It wasn't real," he insisted, reaching over me to open my door.

"Then why are you so troubled by it?" I stepped out of the truck, wrapping my arms around myself to ward off the sudden chill in the air.

"Sometimes I can perceive things before they happen. It's quite unpredictable."

"Your psychic powers are unpredictable? That's, um . . . ironic." I smiled, hoping to add a bit of levity to the conversation. I didn't care for the deep furrow in Edward's brow or the look of desperation in his eyes - like he might pounce on me. "You're acting weird . . . like, scaring me a bit. Please stop, okay? I'm freaked out enough already."

His statue face transformed from plaster to malleable clay, his severe jaw softening and mouth spreading into a smile. "No one will hurt you. Tonight Rosalie will be too busy to even notice your presence."

I worried my lip until it stung as we made the awkward walk over uprooted trees and springy bushes towards the house. "Did Carlisle tell you anything about the guy?" I asked, holding Edward's hand both for comfort and leverage as my feet tangled over exposed root. "I mean, Rosalie just found this random guy in the woods, and she's in love all the sudden? It doesn't make sense." I let go of him to unbutton my jacket. Just being close to the house was stifling.

"He's her mate. These things don't always make sense, so I've learned." He grinned.

"No kidding." He grabbed my arm, a shock of pain throbbing around my elbow where he squeezed.

"Stay back." A low growl rumbled in his throat, his tongue flicking wildly, tasting the air.

"Why?" I whispered, too afraid to move.

Howls erupted, so loud and cacophonous I couldn't place where they were coming from. I bit back a cry, grabbing for Edward, nearly collapsing against him. "Wolves?" My heart pounded, and my body itched to run, but terror kept my legs rooted to the ground.

"No." Edward's voice was cold. My neck snapped back as I looked up at him, trying to decipher what he might be thinking. The gold of his irises had a red halo like a blood moon.

A hunter's moon.

"I'm scared," I said, and he nodded. I opened my mouth to ask what the fuck could be making that noise when a fresh onslaught of screams cut through the air, washing over us like a breaking wave.

I couldn't breathe. Oh god, my heart was going to explode in my chest.

My ears buzzed, and I managed to draw in enough air to speak. "Where's it coming from?"

The sound was a symphony of torture, layers of discordant harmonies scratching against each other.

"From inside the house." He released me only to gather me into his arms. "Stay near me, love."

"What the fuck is going on inside the house?" I sobbed against his neck, clinging to his shirt. "You said Rosalie was busy, that no one would hurt me. But it sounds like there's a pack of dogs in there."

He shook his head. "Not dogs. A newborn vampire. I hadn't realized how far into the transformation he is."

"Wait . . . you mean that noise is coming from _one _person?"

Another wave of sound broke in a crescendo. I found myself swept off my feet, succumbing to vertigo as I lost sight of the house. Instead, I saw stars.

"We can't go there. This was a mistake," Edward snarled, cradling me in his arms like a baby.

"Put me down!"

"It's not safe."

"Why? Edward, I don't understand." I kicked until he set me back on my feet.

"Hold my hand."

I was about to ask why when the screams in the house became coherent. "Kill me!" an ominous demonic voice scraped out, as the front door of the house split open.

Like a crab, the demon scuttled out of the house, its head twisting back so the skin of its neck tore, revealing muscle. It opened its mouth, screams of ancient pain tearing out of it.

"Carlisle!" Edward yelled, stepping in front of me.

Rosalie ran out the door and threw herself on the beast, only to be launched into the air upon contact with one of its meaty limbs. She hit the side of the house, collapsing in a heap like a ragdoll.

"You can't have her." Edward crouched in front of me.

The beast screamed out something that sounded like "mine" and flipped onto its hands and stalked forward, eyes trained on my face.

"Emmett, no!" Rosalie screamed. "I'll get you fresh blood, but you can't have her."

Realization punched me in the gut, and my knees buckled, sending my entire body to the ground.

"Emmett," I whispered, my vision tunnelling.

It wasn't a demon. I knew Emmett McCarty from school.

I succumbed to darkness.

* * *

_You've seen what you were and know what you'll be_

_You've seen it all - there is no more to see! _

**A/N Another reason I've been update fail is I'm writing a comedy collab with Fictionfreak95 called Penal Code. Check it out if you like ridiculous comedy/romance. **

**I love you, random stranger. Please review me.**


	19. To Be or Not to Be

**A/N - Sorry for the delay! Yes, I say that a lot. Thanks to Nicole and Kate for making this better. **

"Wake up, love. You need to hold onto me." Edward's voice was hard to decipher over the buzzing in my ear.

"Emmett." I groaned out his name.

"I won't let him hurt you."

My head lolled as Edward wrapped my arms around his neck. Where was the moon? I opened my eyes but saw only black, black, black - the canopy of trees with their gnarled branches and sinewed trunks loomed and receded, and oh, god, I was so dizzy. I wanted to burrow into his shoulder and just sleep.

But there was something he needed to know.

"I know him... that's Emmett." Emmett from school. Emmett from football and calculus and the boy Jessica kissed in ninth grade when she had her first beer. We called him "Bear" because he was so big, but also kind of fuzzy and adorable.

"Shhhh. Concentrate, Bella. Please hold onto me. We need to get to higher ground."

The air turned cold. I wanted to cling to warmth, to soften the sharp chill and terror in my bones, but Edward stood like an arrow, tense and at the ready. Every nerve ending in my body screamed.

"Keep him back, Rose," Edward whispered, the tension in his back palpable. My fingers pressed into his shoulders, his knotted muscles rolling under my hands.

"Burns!" Emmett wailed, stirring echoes from seemingly every direction. Blood, dark and viscous, poured from his mouth as his tongue lapped the air.

A scream curled out of my throat, unbidden, and my breath billowed like smoke.

"Squeeze," Edward urged; I wasn't sure what he meant, but somehow I found myself on his back like a knapsack.

Dizzy, dizzy, and so confused, I grappled with reality, finding myself lost. The sky was now the forest floor, roots clutching through the soil like tentacles.

"Hold on." Edward gripped my ankles, coaxing my legs around his thighs. I clutched with my feet, hands, arms, and even toes, my eyes trained on Emmett's grotesque form. Shock kept me rigid, and I only noticed we'd lifted off the ground when my vantage point became higher. I stared at the top of Emmett's head rather than his blood-stained irises.

"Emmett," Carlisle yelled, his blond hair taking on an ethereal quality under the porch light. "Stay back, my son."

Emmett replied with a treacherous sound, the word sounding like "mine!" but it was hard to hear over the whipping wind in my ears and the steady growl vibrating through Edward's back.

Carlisle threw a black stick to Rosalie, but she shook her head and dropped to the ground, crawling toward Emmett like a submissive dog, her head low.

"Use it!" he yelled.

"Father... I can't!"

"Do it!"

Rosalie's scream wasn't quite as loud as Emmett's as she set him on fire.

Black and charred and burnt flesh. I felt myself vomit on Edward's shoulder as I watched Rosalie douse him with water and cradle his broiled and blistered body in her arms, her white skin blackened by ash.

xxxxx

Esme's voice chimed out a song like a discordant bell. "Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do. I'm half crazy, all for the love of you." She offered me an empty teacup and an eager smile. "It's the same kind the Queen favoured."

"Thanks," I croaked, staring at the empty cup.

"It's not too hot, is it?" She frowned.

I pretended to blow on it and took a sip. "It's lovely, thank you... Mother."

"Pinkies up, sweetness. Only whores drink with their legs uncrossed." She tsked and sat down with her decapitated teddy bear, curling her feet under her knees like a child.

"Poor Emmett," I whispered, my neck aching beneath the monstrous weight of my head. My face felt as though it had been hit by a truck and then stuffed with cotton.

"Poor Emmett?" Edward raised a sardonic brow.

"Yes! Poor Emmett. What don't you understand about my statement?"

The muscles around his mouth quivered, and I wondered if he was suppressing a grin. "He nearly tore you apart, and you pity him. Please tell me why?"

"I mean… well, first of all, just look at him? He's in so much…" I trailed off, not equipped with a strong enough adjective to describe him.

"He'll be fine. His body will repair itself now that he's back in stasis. I'm so sorry you saw that, Bella." His cold fingers massaged the tight muscles of my neck as he spoke. "When the transformation is fully complete, he won't be so... unpleasant."

"He won't want to eat me?"

"Well, no, he will, but he'll have better manners and self-control. A lot will depend upon what his temperament was like when he was still human."

"Emmett's always been a really good guy," I offered.

"What?"

"Alas, poor Emmett. She knew him, Horatio." Esme held the head of Jasper-the-bear and broke out into iambic pentameter. "To be or not to be. That really is the question, isn't it, sweetness?"

I wasn't sure if she was addressing me or the bear.

"Was she always like this?" I whispered.

"I can hear you, silly daisy," Esme's lilting voice replied even though her lips didn't move.

"Holy shit!" I screamed, jumping out of Edward's arms and rushing for the stairs.

"Bella, no! You can't go up there! Mother, what did you do?" he demanded, pulling me back against him.

"Nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing!" she whined. "You love me more. Tell me you love me more. Eddie-bear is my baby."

"Mother," Edward said, and I pressed my ear to his chest listening to the air whoosh through his lungs in a rustling sound - dry leaves on the wind. "I do love you. But Bella has agreed to be my bride, so your question is quite unfair."

"Bride!" She clasped her hands together and squeaked out a pleased sound. All the while her voice ricocheted through my head, "Is it true? Is it true? Will you be like us, too?"

"I can read your mind," I said, trembling.

"No, love. Mother can project her thoughts. She tends to do so when she's over-excited... I'm not sure if she realizes she's doing it half the time." Edward laughed.

The voice in the bathroom! Oh dear god, that was her!

"_I'm so close. I could snatch you up before you had breath enough to scream."_

My heart pounded.

"_You belong to us now."_

"It was you... When I was alone and frightened, you messed with my head. Why, Esme?"

"Naughty girl!" she hissed. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about."

xxxxxx

My dreams were steel blue. I crawled through darkness, scraping my knees over the sharp ground. If I got too lost, at least I could follow the trail of my own blood home.

_Where's home, Bella?_

"Shut up!"

_Wherever you slither, so shall I be._

"This isn't real." I whimpered, wailing against my own echo. "I just need to turn around."

_You can't, dumpling. You belong to us._

Light flooded my pupils as I fought against the tide of my nightmare, gasping for air. I swallowed, my throat coated in knives, and tried to speak.

_You're awake now. Stay awake._

"I need to check on Bella," I heard Edward say. I lifted my head and saw him through the crack in the door, his hair uncharacteristically tousled, his arms around the last person in the world I expected him to be holding.

"She's asleep. Let her rest because Jesus knows she'll never be able to again."

"Rose-"

"She's making the wrong choice."

"It's her choice to make. Not yours."

"Not _yours, _either." Rosalie laughed, standing on her toes and placing a kiss on Edward's cheek. I wanted to get a closer look, but I was afraid to move lest they hear me. "You're not that selfish."

"Don't make assumptions about my character, dear sister, because you'll be wrong."

"How can you claim to love her and damn her to this life?"

"I don't see it that way."

"And I suppose she's begging you to make her a monster like us?"

Pushing on my elbows, I managed to lift my head a couple inches.

"She's awake."

"You're evading the question, Edward!"

"No," he said, the muscles of his jaw dancing with tension. "I'm fully aware of what she's sacrificing to be with me."

"Yes, but is she aware?"

"I believe so."

Rosalie growled out a terrifying rumble. "You're not certain?"

"She's very young. How could she possibly know what she wants yet?"

"Edward, listen to yourself. We're arguing the same point."

"I can't live without her." He bowed his face into his hands.

"You can."

"You don't know."

"I do, Edward. I didn't before, but now that I have Emmett, I do." She ran her hand through his hair, smoothing down his cowlick. "If he wasn't nearly dead when I found him, I never would have had Father change him."

"But you're happy to have found him. Don't pretend otherwise."

"Do I look happy to you?" Her arms flew open and her eyes widened, but her mouth set in a grim line.

"Yes."

"Open your eyes and really look."

"Rosalie," I whispered. "Leave him alone."

"You're awake," Edward said, the old wood floor squeaking beneath his loafers as rushed into the room.

"Let me talk to her. Edward, please?" she called after him.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, ignoring her. She kept her eyes glued to him, lowering her head and slouching as if to make her body smaller.

"Yes," I lied. "Will she hurt me if you let her in the room?"

"I can speak from out here, Bella. Just listen. That's all I ask."

Edward sat beside me on the bed, his arm heavy on my shoulder. "The choice is yours, love."

"Why does she want to talk to me?" The last time I checked, she wanted me dead. "I thought I was just food to her."

She grimaced, her smooth face tensing. "A lot has changed; I apologize for my behaviour that day. And you should know that I've never actually tasted human blood. Unlike Edward over there. He's never been quite as good at exercising restraint... in all matters, it seems." A smirk played on her lips.

"Apology accepted," I said, rather graciously in my opinion, considering she implied I was a cheeseburger and my boyfriend a manwhore.

"Emmett's my mate, Bella. I'll be honest, I never really believed in vampire mating in any kind of romantic notion. Father preached it to Edward and I, that we would find the other half of our self one day, but I didn't believe him. I thought he was fool - a fool in love with an idiot."

Edward snarled, his fangs unsheathing like blades. "Respect, Rose!"

"I'm not finished!" she snapped, placing her hands on her hips, but I noticed her head lower just a little in what I've learned to be a submissive pose.

Edward wiped the venom from his chin and closed his mouth. "What does this have to do with Bella?" His eyes narrowed, and he stepped in front of me. "Is it your intention to play devil's advocate, in a manner of speaking?"

Rosalie huffed out an annoyed sound. "That's not quite it."

I tilted my head to get a better look through the open door, meeting Rosalie's black eyes. "You want to be with Edward," she stated.

"I do." My voice was more tentative than I'd intended, and I felt his fingers tighten over my arm.

"Will you die for him?"

"Um..." I hesitated, watching Edward's expression as he gave me an encouraging smile. "I'd kind of rather not die."

"I see." Rosalie clicked her tongue in the most curious way. "When Edward propositioned siring you, did he explain the process?"

I bit my lip. "He didn't exactly propose it. I mean, I knew he wanted to be my mate, but I guess... I guess he assumed I'd know what that meant."

"Men can be such buffoons." Her red mouth spread into a smile so wide it was macabre rather than humorous.

"Uh, yeah."

"You assumed she'd know you meant to turn her?" she asked Edward.

"I wasn't thinking logically at the time. We'd spent several days having intercourse; I was distracted."

"To say the least!" She shook her head. "Bella, I have a very simple question for you. I'd like you to answer honestly."

"Okay," I said slowly, unable to look away from her eyes. Her pupils seemed to eclipse her irises as I stared into the darkness. I couldn't move, drowning in the black of her eyes.

"We all have abilities, Bella. Do you know what mine is?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but my tongue wouldn't cooperate.

"It's difficult to speak, I know. Your mind is anticipating my question, and it can't concentrate on peripheral queries until you reply. Do you know what my question is?"

I shook my head.

Edward's voice was in my ear, but his words made no sense.

"Bella," Rosalie said, and the ambient noise in the room seemed to reach a crescendo before exploding into silence.

"Yes, Rosalie," I heard myself reply.

"Do you want to be with Edward?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to be a vampire?"

"No."

"Well, brother," Rosalie stretched, rubbing her back into the wall like a cat. "It seems your mate knows what she wants and doesn't want after all."

The bed bounced as Edward shot like a dart out of the room and toward his sister, his hand settling around her neck. "You're controlling her mind."

"I'm not," she managed through her crushed throat.

"You'll kill her, Edward. Stop!" I screamed, stumbling out of bed and tripping over my own damn feet.

"She's fine. She doesn't need to breathe."

"Then why are you choking her?"

"I'm annoyed by the sound of her voice."

"You know I'm right, Edward," she rasped.

"What's this really about? Only days ago you wanted her gone."

"Yes! She's better off dead than like us."

Edward punched a hole into the brittle wall, cracks like spiderwebs radiating out of the puncture. "You want to kill her."

"I want to be her!" Rosalie wailed.

And I, too, knew what I wanted.

Edward let go of her neck and she crumpled onto the floor. "I never had a choice, Bella. Father changed me because I was going to die. If he'd have bothered to ask me, I would have chosen death."

"And I still have a choice," I concluded, inching closer to her.

"Yes. So make the right one."

"Please," I whispered, reaching for Edward's hand, my eyes never leaving Rosalie's face. She was a broken porcelain doll; I was staring at my future - a world of regret.

"Bella?" Edward asked with trepidation evident in his tone.

"I want to go home now. I want my father."

_I'm sorry, sorry, sorry, Edward. I can't be like you._

**A/N - One more chapter left. Your thoughts are appreciated! Reviews/messages/tweets/etc make my universe. **


	20. The Living Dead

**A/N - this chapter was re-written twice since mac beta'd. Pre-read by obsmama. So sorry it's taken me this long to post. This is the penultimate chapter. One more to go!**

_When no one's looking I touch a sculpture_

_Marble, cold and soft as satin_

_But the most special are the most lonely_

_God, I pity the violins_

_First there's lights out, then there's lock up_

_Masterpieces serving maximum sentences_

_It's their own fault for being timeless_

_There's a price to pay and a consequence_

_All the galleries, the museums_

_Here's your ticket, welcome to the tombs_

_They're just public mausoleums_

_The living dead fill every room_

-Rowboats, Regina Spektor

Long after Rosalie left the room, I stood stoic, afraid to speak or even breathe too loudly. Edward was a statue at the foot of his bed, and the room a morgue in its silence. It hurt, looking at him, but it hurt more not to.

"Are you ignoring me?" I tried not to whine as I asked.

"No," he replied but offered nothing more.

"Look, I know I've changed my mind a few times...and if I didn't see Emmett turn into whatever the hell it was he just turned into...I don't know." I inched toward him, every muscle in my body tense as I scooted down the bed, the stiff sheets rumpling like waves in my wake. "I mean, we can still be together, right?"

Edward made a strange sound in reply: a soft growl like a purring cat. In my state of hysteria I almost laughed.

"Say something," I begged, receiving an an empty stare and stony silence in response. "You're so resolved to just, I don't know, wallow in despair...you won't even look at me. Why won't you look at me?"

"I cannot at the moment," he replied, his voice too deep as that weird sound continued to rumble from him even as he spoke. I lifted my hand, my fingers itching to touch his shoulder, but he moved beyond my grasp. And, oh, my eyes played tricks on me. Blood seemed to pool under his eyes as he turned away from me, but it was only shadow spreading into the hollows of his cheeks.

"Please?"

"I will not covet."

"That doesn't make much sense. I mean, you can't really covet something that's yours." I stood, taking a hesitant step towards him. The growl intensified.

"You're not mine. Please, Isabella, if you care for me at all you'll keep your distance right now. "

"You said you'd stay with me even if I chose to remain human."

"We both said a lot of things. We even meant what _some_ of them, I'm sure."

"I meant everything," I said, chewing on my finger. "Please understand that I really _do_ want to be with you forever...it's just my forever is different than yours."

He shook his head and buried his face in his hands, his shoulders trembling.

"Edward...please look at me. Please? I can't leave things this way with us."

"I don't want this either, you realize." He turned, finally facing me with glassy, unfocused eyes. I reached for his hand, and he let me hold it but offered no fond squeeze in return. And it hurt - to be so close to him without him reaching for me. It hurt so fucking much it was all I could do to stop myself from screaming.

"Where's Emmett?" I asked, my voice sounding strangled through my tight and painful throat.

"Away. The family has taken him to a cave near Mount Rainier. It's secluded; no one will hear his screams."

"How much longer, Edward?"

"He'll be fully changed by tomorrow evening," he replied in a flat tone.

"That's not what I meant..."

Edward's jaw clenched as he contemplated my face. "How much longer until what?"

"Until you let me leave," I qualified.

"You're free to leave whenever you wish." His eyes flashed, his lip curling as if to reveal his fangs.

"But...I don't have any way of getting home. And I'm..." I didn't' quite know how to complete that sentence. I was what? Desperate with fear? No, I wasn't afraid of Edward. Not anymore. I was afraid of being without him. "I'm scared," I said finally.

"Of me?"

"No...of the loneliness. Being away from you, Edward, it terrifies me."

"I'm sorry..." he said. An apology, but his expression didn't reflect the sentiment of his words. The corners of his wide mouth upturned into a sneer, a perversion of a smile. I cowered, clutching my arms as if to keep myself from falling apart.

"You're acting weird," I accused.

"Bella, I apologize. I love you, but you have the power to hurt me, and my body is responding to you as a threat. I have no control over these somatic reactions, but I'd never hurt you intentionally. It's imperative that I exercise caution right now."

"Is that why you won't let me get near you? You think you'll strike out at me?"

He nodded. "I'm so very ashamed; I'm growling at you."

"You won't hurt me," I insisted, fighting the tremble in my voice as I teetered between anger and hysterics. It was an exhausting line to toe. "Please, Edward? Please hold me?"

"We need to get used to it...the distance. And love? I'm certain being separated will be worse for me than it is for you. Human memories fade so quickly. Vampire minds are different. Our temperaments will not alter after having been changed by something as profound as love. Truly, without you, I am the living dead."

"Don't say those things!" I screamed, tears blurring my vision. "It kills me. You think it doesn't, but it does. You think it doesn't affect me to hear you say such things? Or maybe you're punishing me for changing my mind. Is that it?"

"It's not my intention to punish you. I'm merely speaking my mind, and I do believe I'll suffer more, not only in intensity but certainly in duration. Until my body is dust, I shall pine."

"Fuck!" I screamed, balling my fists and swinging at nothing. "You're making light of my feelings for you. And you're killing me. Maybe not the same way as you planned, but it feels like there's this hole in my chest...I can't breathe." I inhaled fire, my chest constricting against the burn.

Something flickered in his eyes, so briefly - a tenderness I craved. He bowed his head, and the moment was lost. "What do you want, Bella? We're arguing in circles, and I fear for your health."

"Earlier you said you'd stay with me no matter what."

"Is that what you want?"

Oh, but I was a selfish creature! I nodded, wiping stupid tears from my cheeks.

He laughed. "I'm not certain Father will allow it, but Lord knows I'll try, Bella."

I attempted to smile, but his expression was furious, eyes blazing and nostrils flaring. Yet still he chuckled like someone had told a joke I couldn't possibly understand. "I never thought I'd ever be in this situation. No one has ever had the power to destroy me. But you...you kill me over and over again on a whim."

"I don't! I love you, Edward. I do. More than anything-"

"Allow me this indulgence, love. I'll give you everything you want, but I need to say a few things."

I cringed, steeling myself against his onslaught.

"If you must. Just...just remember I love you more than anything." My voice was feeble.

"You speak of love as if you had any idea..._my_ love is unconditional, and even though I might dislike you right now, I'll never stop loving you. I'll live and die to be yours, and I'm not certain you understand the perverse irony of it all."

Tears coursed down my face as I tried to collect my words. "I'm sorry," I managed, reaching for him, trying to wrap my body around his. "I'm so fucking sorry."

"Is that all you have to say? You're sorry? You love me?"

I shook my head. "I'm sorry!" I repeated lamely. "I don't know what to say to make this better. Tell me what to say?"

"No," he replied, wrapping his arms around me and kissing my forehead. His lips were ice. "There's nothing you can say. You won't give me what I want, and I won't force your hand."

I hiccupped against his chest, my eyes so puffy from crying they were nearly swollen shut. "I d-don't want to die. I love you, but not enough to become like Emmett."

"Thank you." Edward sighed, his arms tightening around my torso.

"For what?"

"For your honesty."

I shook my head, inadvertently wiping my sore nose on his shirt. "But you hate me!"

"No, I could never. I'm angry, but it shall pass. Don't cry...I'm so sorry, love. I didn't mean what I said. Any of it. These emotions are most confounding, and I don't know how to express them properly...I'll take you home now."

"Not like this! Please, Edward, don't leave me like this." I dug my fingers into his back in effort to hold him to me, my breasts flattening against his chest as I pushed against him. He didn't pull away. "I love you so much it hurts. I know you think I don't care, but I do. I'll suffer, too…being away from you."

He groaned and dropped his head against my shoulder. "I don't want you to suffer."

"I know. I just don't want you to think I don't care about the way you feel; I do."

"Sometimes I hate the way you make me feel, but I could never hate you." He sobbed into the juncture between my neck and my shoulder, his tears becoming kisses. "So soft."

"Maybe it would've been better if we never met."

"You'd be dead if we never met."

"And you wouldn't be in this position," I reminded him. But I wished I hadn't spoken at all because he stopped kissing me.

"I'd sooner die than live in a world you don't exist, love. Don't listen to the blathering of a desperate man." He kissed my collar bone then, unbuttoning my shirt and revealing more skin for him to taste. "I love you, I love you," he repeated. "I'll do whatever you want me to do. Just let me love you."

Oh, god, I was dizzy. Between the fighting and his mouth, I didn't know how to hold my ground. I was falling.

"What will happen to you...when I'm gone?"

"Nothing," he said, falling to his knees to kiss my stomach. "I'll be here. The same as always. Nothing will ever change."

My hand found its way into his hair, tangling and tugging, holding him close to my skin. His mouth made a trail from my navel to my hip, the ice of his touch making me burn. So much so that I almost didn't feel my skin tear until the pain intensified.

"Edward?" I yelped, a sharp stinging my hip.

"Sleep, my love. Close your eyes."

xxxxxxx

"What happened?" I slurred, digging my fingers into Edward's back, my head bobbing on his shoulder as he ran. The world bled into a Monet painting. Green whirred by me in a fit of brush strokes as my eyes sought to focus, failing.

"You're fine, love," Edward replied, his arms so cold and hard against my back - too cold. Something felt wrong. "It's for the best."

Footsteps sloshed beneath us - Edward's wet gait flying over the forest floor despite the muck - and I felt so heavy, weighted down by delirium. My arms wrapped around his neck, tight and oh, so heavy.

"I don't understand..." Spinning, my neck arched and my head dropped back. The sky churned like a whirlpool as I fought against wave after wave of anesthesia.

"Stop fighting it, love. Close your eyes."

"Noooo," I sobbed, biting the inside of my mouth to stay awake. "Do you feel this weight around you? I'm made of stone."

"You're perfect."

But I wasn't. They were all perfect: statues so cold and beautiful. So trapped.

"You're like a painting," I whispered. "Perfect and untouchable. I tried to live in your world, but I'm not like that."

Cradled so softly in his arms, he rocked me against him as if I was a child. And maybe I was. His hands were still so cold, yet somehow soft against my face. "You're beautiful."

My nose wrinkled, catching the scent of something putrid...the sweet cloying smell of decomposing flesh.

I turned my head again, but couldn't see the ground beneath us. In fact, I could barely move my neck at all. "Do you smell that?"

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean, love." His voice sounded like it was trapped in a tin can.

"I can't move." Blood red sky flashed like lightning behind my eyelids. I blinked. "Oh... Oh, I think I understand."

"You're not making sense. It's the drugs, and I'm sorry about that; it couldn't be helped."

"God, I pity the violins," I sang.

"You'll be home soon," he deflected.

"You're so lovely, Edward. But you're covered in dust, and I'm sorry I couldn't be the Venus to your Apollo."

"You're mixing Roman and Greek mythologies."

"No... art. Statues. Edward... you're not real."

He laughed, but it sounded like a broken sob. "I'm not real?"

"No. I think I've figured it all out."

"Have you?"

"Yes." I swallowed, my throat so tight. "I'm dying. I'm still on the floor of that Seven-Eleven. I never left."

"Of course you did. I saved you."

"Did you?"

"Yes!"

I shook my head. "I'm pretty sure none of this happened." My mouth was so dry. It almost hurt to kiss his chest. "Such a beautiful lie."

xxxxxxx

It was so cold when I regained consciousness, so dark. A strangled groan rasped its way out of my throat.

"She's waking up! Do you think it's her?"

I froze like a deer in the path of a barreling car. My eyes felt glued together, and I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

"She _looks_ like the girl in the poster," a male voice replied.

_Oh, god, why can't I open my eyes?_

"It's kind of morbid, don't you think? Finding her in the same place."

Where was I?

"It's just like Chief Swan thought...a second gunman?"

"Maybe...but why here, man? Why bring her back to the scene of the crime?"

My eyes finally flew open, and I was greeted with the flickering of overhead fluorescent lights and a water-stained ceiling. "Because I never left," I explained.

So slowly, I was dying.

**A/N - one more chapter to go! Reviews are appreciated! Let me know what you thought (even if you'd like to leave crit, it's cool). Chat with me on Twitter. I'm BellaFlan.  
**


	21. Morphine

**A/N – Yes, I know I'm late. I'm so sorry. Here's the final chapter. Epi is half-written and will follow shortly. Beta'd by mac. Mistakes are mine. As usual, this somehow turned into dark comedy. I can't seem to help it. Um, enjoy?**

When you cut off a limb, it still aches. The scientist in me was always very interested in pain - its role in adaptation and evolution. But phantom pain was something I never understood. How could it possibly be a benefit to survival? The appendage was gone, so why keep punishing the rest of the body? It's not like it could grow back.

Ever.

I'd never get used to it...all this pain. The gaping, festering wound that shot fire through my veins with every pump of my heart.

But what was missing? A limb? I remembered a bloodied arm, but not to whom it was attached.

"Am I dead?" I asked the paramedic as he wheeled me into the Emergency entrance of Forks Community Hospital.

Edward once told me about the anguish of living forever after losing a mate. Surely losing an arm couldn't be nearly as painful?

xxxxxx

Doctors, police, even a fucking priest, but no one could provide me with answers. How could I mourn something I wasn't even sure was real?

"Dad?" My voice sounded like an echo. My entire body _felt _like an echo. I was light from a star - dead but still reflecting life.

"Sweetheart?"

"No more medication. Please? I can't think in this fog."

"I don't know what to do, Bells. Tell me what to do."

_Help me to remember. _"I just want to forget."

xxxxxx

Forgetting was easier. Remembering...oh, god, why didn't I stay in that blissful fugue? As soon as the drugs were out of my system, memories flooded my senses. It's funny, but my first memory of what happened was a smell...pine and mint. At first I didn't understand, but I was so desperate for the smell I nearly demanded a car air freshener.

But then I remembered everything. All at once. A deluge of _Edward _- his voice, his touch, his body, oh fuck...

_The blood...I need to get as much off you as possible before I take you back to my home._

_You're just very . . . brave. It's unexpected and quite charming._

_I'd like to ask your permission to court you_

_You're the most beautiful woman in the world to me...there's no comparison. _

_I don't know much about cooking, but maybe we could look up some recipes on Carlisle's computer?_

_I guarantee that despite my nature, I'm still very much a man._

_May I touch you?_

_You won't let me change you. I don't think I can leave you._

Twelve days. My father said it was just under two weeks, but it felt like a lifetime. I bit the inside of my cheek and sat beside him, silent. His hand was on my back, my shoulder, my waist, like he didn't want to let me go...like I might disappear at any moment. Words bubbled out of my throat but got caught on my listless tongue. I should have found the words to placate him, but I couldn't bring myself to regret the decisions I made that brought me to Edward. No, I wouldn't even trade the lives of Jessica and Mike if it meant losing the time we had together. If there _was_ a god he would strike me down for such thoughts, but I didn't care. If god existed I probably was going to burn.

"Will you speak to the doctor this time, Bells?" My father's lips moved, but what he was saying didn't register immediately.

"Pardon?"

"The doctor. Please try to say...anything. Hell, I don't know. I'm trying here, I really am, but you won't talk. How can we help if you won't tell us what happened?"

I shrugged. "I don't remember, Dad. I'm fine." What doctor was I here to see? The dark furniture and stark walls didn't offer any clue.

"You're not fine."

"Well, I'm sorry I'm not a better victim." I glared, hands curling into fists at my side. My knuckles turned white. I'd cut off the blood. Blood.

Edward.

An image of blood-splattered tile shot through my mind, and while I should have been traumatized by the memory, all I knew was the sweet relief of seeing Edward's face.

A sob burst through my throat.

"Bella...please. Tell me."

I couldn't answer. How could I tell my father the pain lessened when my abductor became more tangible? But then the memory burned, rendering me into dust. I wished I could float away. It was ambivalence. Ambivalence would tear me in two.

"Is it a flashback? Please...anything at all you can remember?"

I shook my head, squeezing his hand, so cold and clammy against my own.

"I can't remember, Dad. I try," _truth,_ "but I just can't." _Lie. Always the lie._

"Do you need to take one of those pills...the lorazepam?" He struggled with the child-safety lid of an amber bottle. "I don't know...they said to give you these when you get agitated."

"Sure," I said and popped several white tablets under my tongue. "I'm fine." Calmer.

xxxxx

Time passed, despite my stagnation. I was practically gathering moss, but everything else evolved, leaving me behind in this state of half-slumber. Dream-like death, and oh, I felt like Juliet a little bit. Like I'd taken the potion, but my Romeo was dead, dead, dead.

_I will kiss thy lips; haply some poison yet doth hang on them..._

From my window, I watched the seasons change. Winter melted into spring, and the smell of the wet earth reached me even through the closed window. Nature was a relentless force.

And yet...a tiny part of me was relieved - the cowardly girl who could close her eyes and pretend monsters didn't exist - but most of me was screaming for him. For Edward. The monster _and_ the man since I couldn't reconcile one from the other.

_Please, Edward. Come back to me._

Some nights I swore I could hear him, lurking in the shadows like Nosferatu. My eyelids would tremble as I struggled to keep them closed, to pretend rather than open them and dispel the fantasy.

Just darkness there. Nothing else.

My cruel mind screamed _nevermore_, and I almost laughed, manic. God, I felt so crazy.

But like nature, you can't hold back the tide of time. It passes, and even though I remained stuck, everything around me continued to change. I could see it - the drip, drip, dripping of more time lost, slipped between my fingers, flowing past and beyond me despite every effort to stop it. God, I wanted to just stay here and remember. Remember him.

Edward.

His name was a punch in my gut. Because time passed, but it didn't heal.

Edward.

Edward.

Drip, drip, drip.

Another turn of the earth, and I was dizzy with memories. Memories that burned my lungs and my eyes and my chest. Eventually, they burned my throat, too, leaving my body in the form of vomit.

"Bella? Sweetheart?" Time. It was there again in the lines around my father's eyes. And again in the weathered skin of his hands. _We are all the refuse of time._

xxxxxx

"Please." My voice was a whisper, my lids squeezed shut. "Just a few minutes longer. Let me pretend a bit longer." In the dark, I could hear him, taking air into his hollow body, smelling, tasting, loving me, not breathing.

_Vampires are like snakes,_ he would explain, nostrils flared.

"Edward...don't go. Stay."

Cold air caressed my torso, a breeze somehow finding its way up my nightshirt, fluttering the material. My skin danced with it - this apparition.

"It's okay. Stay." I breathed, my eyelids fluttering, less timid. "I'm not afraid."

Another quick intake of air, squeaking of floorboards.

"You're here, aren't you. I'm gonna open my eyes."

The curtains rustled, but there was no sign of Edward.

"Come back. Stay."

Crickets chirped somewhere outside my window. The sound of my heart hammering was deafening against the silence.

xxxxxx

"Did you take your pills?" Dad asked. I shook my head, breezing past him and opting for coffee rather than serotonin reuptake inhibitors.

"They make me dizzy." Because I was supposed to have food with them. Food made me dizzy, too. So did breathing.

"God dammit!" My father scrubbed his hands over his forehead and scalp, pulling his hair into frustrated tufts. "No more. Fuck! I- I can't just sit here and watch you fade away into nothing. I won't do it!"

I was about to argue, tell him I was fine, but before I could even open my mouth to speak, he'd grabbed my shoulders, shaking me. "Wake up, Bella. Snap out of it!" And then a lick of fire across my cheek. I didn't even know what made the terrible clapping sound that accompanied it, but like a zombie, I moved my hand to my sore cheek. Dad staggered away from me, staring at his open hand in shock.

"Ow," I whispered, watching Dad tremble, glaring at his hand as if it was a smoking pistol.

"I didn't mean to."

"I know, Dad. It's fine."

He shook his head and honked out a sob, burying his head in his hands, palms straining and fingers spread. "I didn't mean to."

"I know, Daddy. I know. Really, I'm not angry."

His eyes were red-rimmed shadows as he contemplated me from across the kitchen. I stood like a statue, patient. I'd nowhere to be; it didn't matter.

"I know. You're not mad. You're nothing. It can't go on like this. You need to go back to the hospital."

I sighed. "Fine, Dad."

It didn't really matter.

"Dad?" I wiggled my fingers, perplexed.

"Yeah?"

"When did my arm grow back? Limbs don't do that, right?"

"You never lost your arm." His voice cracked.

"Oh. I thought...never mind. I don't know what I thought."

xxxxxxx

My room was white with round edges. Not that an edge _could_ be round. It was difficult to articulate myself - even in my head. I couldn't muddle through my thoughts. The drugs made things easier. I could crack a smile like an egg. And if the corners of my bed, table, and dresser were round, the corners of my smile were sharp in contrast. My brain had been smashed open, and it was all I could do to keep the truth from oozing out.

I had to protect Edward.

The rustle of keys derailed my train of thought, rerouting my attention to the door of the hospital room. I could hear the key turn in the cylinder of the lock, and Tanya - my nurse - entered. She wore blue scrubs and a blade of a smile, so crisp it rivaled my own.

"How're you feeling today, Bella? Is the Effexor helping?"

"Is that why I'm so sleepy?" On cue, I yawned.

She frowned and looked at her clipboard. "Dr. Banner had you on Thorazine. Lower dose since last week, so I imagine he's weaning you off. Shit, I'm not supposed to make inferences like that."

"Why? It sounds logical."

"I'm your nurse, not your doctor."

My smile softened. "You guys run this place. I trust your judgment over some White Coat who barely speaks to me five minutes a day."

"Well, aren't you sweet." She wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm, and I cringed as it tightened. My throat tightened, too.

"You look familiar," I said.

She laughed, and it sounded like bells. "I've been your nurse all week. I'd be concerned if I didn't look familiar by now."

"That's not it...you just, I don't know, remind me of someone."

"I have that kind of face." She shrugged, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder.

"I guess."

"You're doing great, Bella. You should be ready to leave any day now. I wouldn't be surprised if tonight was your last night."

xxxxxxx

Despite the fact my window was barred shut, a breeze woke me some time in the night. Shivering, I pulled the scratchy sheets around my body and drew my knees to my chest.

"Bella?"

Mint and forest and cool fingers on the small of my back.

"You're not real," I moaned, falling back into endless night. I couldn't wake up.

"I'm not. None of this is real, love. None of it was ever real." Dream Edward's voice cracked with a sob. "Forget me."

"I can't," I said to no one.

"Just promise me you'll be careful? You're so fragile; it terrifies me. Every moment I'm worrying about you - how I can no longer keep you safe."

"Keep me," I murmured.

"I would have. I've had time to think, and I'll never forgive myself for how I treated you. I've been an old fool."

"No. I love you."

His fingers, so like smoke in this strange dream, crawled up my torso and rested on my arm. "My love is selfish. I still want you all to myself."

"Want you."

I sat up, itching to reach for him, but my hands clutched air.

Edward dissolved, his form pixelating into static. This hallucination was most cruel.

xxxxxxx

Dad sat, hunched down on a stiff leather chair in the visitation room. The furniture in the hospital was sane and austere - a study of contrasts with the people who inhabited the space. A few other patients were scattered around the room, listening to music or reading or speaking quietly - to other people or themselves - but the lone television in the room was ignored.

My feet were slower than I'd intended. I wanted to rush to my father, but my limbs ignored my brain, moving like the air was viscous. Dad stood when he noticed my approach, his posture defeated, shoulders curving.

"Did you bring me a cheeseburger?" I grinned, wrapping my arms around my father.

"They were out of the girl toys. I hope you like Transformers." He handed me the familiar red and yellow box that held my Happy Meal and urged me to sit.

"They don't have sharp parts, do they?"

"They're a kid's toy...so probably." He mussed my hair like I was twelve. "I've missed you, kiddo."

"Me too. How long have I been here? I mean, it feels like a week, but the meds make it hard for me to know for sure."

Dad flashed a smile, but it dragged at the corners, the skin of his face stretching tight with effort. "It's been more like three weeks. This is my third visit...don't you remember last week?"

Automatically, my hand reached for my cheek - the spot where he'd slapped me. Dad bowed his head and rubbed his eyes. "I reported myself for that, but they won't do anything unless you press charges."

"For what?"

"Abuse," he mumbled.

"You didn't abuse me, Dad. Can't we just let it go?"

"Not until you press charges."

I shook my head. There was no way that would happen, but rather than argue, I decided to change the subject. "I'm starting to feel more like myself. So I was thinking...since I'll be getting out in a couple days, maybe we could start visiting colleges?"

Dad frowned. "Bella...you're not quite...there yet. Dr. Banner mentioned weeks of treatment before you're ready to leave."

"That's not what my nurse said!" I jumped to my feet, noticing a ward assistant across the room, previously seated, also stand. "It's okay. I'm calm," I told him, smiling my sharp smile. "I just want to stretch my legs."

xxxxxx

Cold again. The window was still sealed shut, but my veins pumped ice chips from my heart. I blew out air as if it was smoke, my teeth crashing, sharp like serrated thorns, and I bit my lip by accident. A tear of blood fell to the sheets. In the dark, I imagined it blossom scarlet against white cotton.

"Doctor Banner!" I yelled, unsure if he was even on call tonight. "Something's wrong with my room."

My door squealed on its hinges; I hadn't even heard the lock turn. Tanya appeared in front of me, her movements ridiculously graceful and swift for the middle of the night.

"I'm cold." I said the words as if they were an apology.

"I know. It's the morphine."

"Why am I on morphine?"

"For pain."

I frowned. "I'm not in pain."

"It's for the best, Bella. Trust me on this one. He's not certain it'll make a difference, but one can only hope, right?"

Nodding, I rolled onto my side, swinging a leg over the side of the bed.

_When I was seven, I burned my hand on the stove._

My body reacted even though my mind hadn't caught up yet.

I ran. As soon as my foot touched the ground, I was running before I fully understood why.

It was my nurse - her perfect skin and inhuman eyes. She reminded me of Rosalie. She'd come to kill me.

"Bella." Her voice was in my ear as I ran down the darkened, hospital corridor. "Don't run. Carlisle wants you to stop running."

A scream rose in my throat, but I swallowed it. Every instinct, every nerve and synapse was occupied, propelling me forward, moving my feet, pumping my heart, filling my lungs. There'd be time for terrible fear later, now my mind was a sharpened point, focused on escape.

I would survive.

"I'm your friend. Honestly, you're being ridiculous."

My head whipped side to side, and I cautioned a glance over my shoulder, but Tanya was nowhere to be seen. I kept running, kept breathing, kept the blood flowing, concentrating on the steady whoosh of my heart keeping time as I fled. The long shadows kept time with me, too. I'd barely noticed that only the emergency lights were lit, and the back-up generator was rumbling. Now, in the silence, it was deafening.

When I reached the nurses' station, I pounded against the glass. "She's trying to kill me! She's come to kill me!"

Shadows so dark here. I couldn't see anything - not even any light from the computers. I knocked harder on the window and heard something break.

"Please," I whimpered, hands sliding along the glass partition. "Where is everyone?" Something sharp tore my palm, and I screamed as a security light illuminated the shattered pane.

Blood roses: crimson blossoms against white tile.

"Oh, god." My stomach lurched. I swallowed, breathing and counting to stay calm. _Move slowly. Killers like moving targets._

It was just like the 7-Eleven. Bodies on the floor. Dead eyes, darkened irises, black against a white face and a gaping mouth. My feet became wet.

I dropped to the ground and covered my head. Like a soldier crawling through a minefield, I stayed low, my hospital gown sopping up blood as I dragged myself toward the exit.

A pair of feet appeared as if from nowhere, and a scream gurgled out of my throat.

"There you are!" Tanya smiled. A blade glistened in her hand. She brought it to her nose and inhaled, closing her eyes.

My legs tightened, and I shot forward like a dart, ready to run.

"Don't tire yourself out, sweetheart. You can't outrun me." Her hand was on my arm before I could take a step.

"You killed them?"

"I know. Gah, I feel awful about it, but Carlisle insisted. Just this once, he said, because it's for the greater good."

"E-E-d-dward s-said." I inhaled, swallowing a sob. _Breathe!_ I screamed at myself. _Stay calm. You've survived this sort of thing before._

"What did he say?" She wiped blood onto her scrubs, still wearing a psychotically pleasant grin. She loosened her grip on me and dropped the knife. There were no sounds, save my own erratic heartbeat and metal echoing against linoleum.

"His family doesn't eat humans."

Tanya's nose wrinkled. "Oh! No, I didn't eat them silly! I just stabbed them. I'm a Denali. Jesus, my sister would kill me if I ate human."

"What the fuck is a Denali?" I'd thought it was a truck.

"We're like a hippy coven from Alaska. If a vampire could actually be a granola eater...well, that would be us."

"Edward never mentioned you."

"We're not exactly close. Carlisle had hopes for us, but," she giggled and bade me to come closer as if she had a secret to tell, "I like girls."

"Right. Stabbed them. Lesbian vampire. Makes perfect sense." I took a step away from her, preparing to run, but I slipped and landed on my thigh, twisting my ankle.

"Ouch. That sounded like a break. Can I see?"

_Don't fight! Just do what she says._ "Sure. Please." My lips trembled, but a smile still stretched across my face.

"Poor thing." She pressed her cold fingers into my achilles tendon. "This must hurt. Let me help." I cried out as a needle punctured my skin, stinging and sending a deep ache through my damaged ankle. The fire was chased by a cooling numbness. "I'm gonna give you a spinal. Do you know what that is?"

"No," I whimpered. "Please."

With tender, gentle hands, she brushed my hair away from my back. "You won't feel anything at all from the chest down. Carlisle's waiting outside. Do you understand what's happening, Bella?" Her tone was calm, like a doctor explaining a procedure.

"Please...I don't wanna die."

Tanya giggled. "Bella! Oh my god, no. I'm so sorry...no wonder you pissed yourself. We're not going to kill you, silly girl!"

"You're not?"

"No, sweetheart. Curl forward, okay? Try not to move." She poked at my spine, and I must have passed out for a minute because I couldn't remember the pinch of the needle. All was soft, empty darkness until I was jarred back into my body by a terrible taste of metal and bitter saliva flooding my mouth. The sensation of pins and needles traveled up my legs, and Tanya lifted me into her arms as if I weighed no more than a newborn.

Certainly I was just as helpless.

"I'm gonna die." The words were garbled and barely whispered.

"Of course not! Carlisle is changing you. Today's your wedding day!"

My vision faltered again, shrouding everything in grey. I struggled to remain conscious, concentrating on filling my lungs, but I could no longer feel my chest expand with my respiration.

"Can't...breathe."

"Something borrowed," Tanya said, wrapping my broken ankle with a tensor bandage. She clipped a broach onto my nightgown and added, "Something blue and something old."

"Edward..."

"Soon. Patience, Mrs. Cullen. You'll see him soon enough. He's going to be so surprised!" Rain, cold on my skin as she carried me outside, blabbering on and on about the wedding. Vomit poured into my mouth, and I coughed, trying to move my head. Bile burned the roof of my mouth and shot out of my nose. "Oh, shoot! Sorry, sorry, sorry. Don't aspire, okay? Carlisle will murder me if you die."

She adjusted me, clearing my mouth with her hand. "Breathe, Bella."

So I breathed. It burned.

"There you go! Keep taking nice, clear breaths. You're gonna miss it, you know. Breathing."

My eyes rolled back into my head.

"No, no, no! Stay awake, okay? This is the most important day of your life! You're gonna be a bride." She stroked my forehead, still walking through the night with me in her arms. "So we have something borrowed, something blue...what else?"

"Tanya," a voice called in the dark. My breath stuttered.

"Oh! And there's Carlisle. He's waiting, Bella. Ready to become something new?"

**A/N – Epi to follow!**

**Big thanks to mac, perrymaxed, katinki, for beta and pre-reading help. Love to Corie, meranaamjoker for your encouragement. Whenever I threaten to update you're always cheering me on. I appreciate that so much! Big love to all who took the time to pimp! I'm pretty sure most of my readers were sent by fictionfreak and twilover. You guys are awesome friends and fabulous writers.**

**I know my updating schedule has totally sucked. It was never my intention to suck so hard outside of the bedroom. I really appreciate everyone who hung in there.**

**I'm currently writing original fiction and a comedic twific called State of Love and Trust. This is a collab with the fabulous MrsSpaceCowboy.**

**This story never would have happened if it weren't for mac. I emailed her a plot bunny, which was literally a half feral Edward bringing a captive Bella a decomposing bunny to "feed" her. This made us both laugh, so I wrote it.**

**Reviews are appreciated, read, re-read, sung to, and sometimes even replied to ;)**

**Do you think Edward will appreciate Carlisle's surprise for him?  
**


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